Wolverine: The Next Generation
by thrillerfan1
Summary: What happens when Wolverine/Logan finds love and the oppritunity for a family? Well, read and find out!  Rated Teen for some violence and language.  You'll have to imagen what some things look like. Marissa looks like Reese Witherspoon.
1. Meet Wolverine

**Setting:** Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters

**Year:** September, 2001

**Main Characters:** Professor Charles Xavier (Professor X), Logan Howlett (Wolverine), Ororo Munroe (Storm), Scott Summers (Cyclops), Jean Grey, Marie (Rogue), Bobby (Iceman), Marissa Carrington (Metallica), Eric Lehnsherr (Magneto), Mystique, Hank McCoy (Beast)

**Author's Note:** What will happen when Wolverine finds love and possibly a family? Well, read and find out!

Almost anything that is in italics is what the character is thinking.

***Logan's Point of View (POV)***

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again—I'm the best at what I do… but what I do best isn't very nice." I stormed out the door of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. When we say "gifted", we mean "mutant". I've never considered being a mutant as a gift. A gift is something you can return. You can't return telepathic abilities, or laser-shooting eyes, or a skeleton made of Adamantium with indestructable claws that extend from your hands.

Professor Xavier was telling Scott, Storm, Jean, and I more about the situation with Magneto, and it wasn't looking good. He was planning to launch an attack on New Orleans, the Louisiana Superdome to be exact. It was the Superbowl and apperently, an abundant amount of mutants were attending and Magneto was going to attempt them to join his Brotherhood. I volunteered to go it alone, undercover. Laser-beam (Scott) and the Professor both gave me the same answer—it's too risky. I protested, naturally. "Nobody else can detect Mystique like I can. If anybody can smell her, it's me." But Professor X made another point, one I didn't like, "But Magneto can also detect _you_. The metal in your bones is something he can sniff out like a blood hound could sniff out a rabbit. He'd give you away in no time—definetly not time enough for us to bring down Mystique." I opened my mouth to talk, but Xavier cut me off, "No more discussion. It's settled." Storm broke in, "He's right, Logan. It's just too risky. You're a valuble member to the team, and that's _why _we need to work as one." Cyclops made a wise-ass remark, "What about me? I'm valuble too!" Jean told him to shut up, which is good because she used her words. I probably would've given him a black eye. "This may be one of our last chances to stop Magneto and his Brotherhood. We can't try anything too dangerous."

"Fighting Metal-head _isn't_ dangerous? We deal with danger every single day of our lives! Can you not see that? Danger is inevitable in our lives, whether you like it or not, Xavier!" The Professor looked at me seriously, "Logan, I know how angry you are. I don't have to read your mind to see that. But right now, we need you to do what you do best."

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again—I'm the best at what I do… but what I do best isn't very nice." I stormed out the door. Usually when I'm pissed off, I do one of two things: practice in the Danger Room or take Scott's bike out for a spin. I decided to go for a ride on the motorcycle. It helps me clear my head. With the help of a technopath (ability to control technology with the mind), I rigged my helmet to play music while I was riding. It's got a place for a chip that holds the music. I turned it on and "Highway to Hell" played. (AN: His helmet looks like this: . ) AC-DC is pretty good, so is Guns 'n Roses.

I had driven about 10 miles into New York City. (The school is only about 20 miles from NYC) I was driving along the more abandoned part of town. As I got nearer to an old alley, I noticed something wasn't right. I stopped the motorcycle beside the curb and let it idle. I smelled the air. What I smelled was familiar and I dreaded the fact that I knew what it was: Mystique. I turned off the ignition and walked toward the smell. I was prepared for anything, and if it _was_ Mystique that was there, anything that could happen _would_. I looked from side to side, making sure that no one else was in sight of me. I've seen the reaction of people when they see my claws. It's not pretty.

I stood in the middle of the entrance to the alley. I should have known better than to expect seeing Mystique in her true form: blue skin, red hair, gold eyes. Instead, there was a man about my height, dressed all in black. He had a woman held against the side of a building by her throat. She was grasping the hand that held her, gasping for air. She looked at me straight in the eye and I put a finger to my lips, telling her to keep quiet. I sneaked up behind Mystique. As soon as I was ready to strike, she struck me in the face with her elbow—or at least tried to. I anticipated her blow and ducked. She dropped the woman to the ground, spun toward me, and she took her true form. She turned around and smiled at me, "It's been a long time, Wolverine." I extended my blades, "Not long enough. You can't stay out of trouble, can you?"

"That's not in my nature. Trouble just comes natural to me. But you can't seem to stay away from me can you? When I'm causing trouble, you're always right there, aren't you?"

"Better to stop you than to leave you alone. Besides, I can never get enough pleasure from fighting you. And beating you." Mystique's gold eyes stared straight into mine, "We'll just see who beats who." I retracted my blades. I really need to work on fighting without them, just a little. With that said, she took two steps toward me and struck. I blocked her blow by grabbing her fist and throwing her to the side. She rolled once and stood up in less than a second. She grabbed a metal pipe that was beside her and she threw it at me like a javalin. _She's just gotta make me use my claws. _I threw my hands up and extended my claws to block it. The pipe fell to the ground with a clatter. I ran at Mystique with my claws pointed straight at her. She jumped up and kicked me square in the face. I fell and hit the ground. Mystique grabbed another piece of pipe and ran at me. Before she even got the chance to throw a blow, I kicked her in the gut and then the face. I jumped up and kicked her in the face one more time. She fell backwards and hit her head on the side of a building, knocking her unconsious.

I retracted my claws and walked over to the unconsious woman laying on the ground. I kneeled down beside her and felt for her pulse. She was still alive and her heartbeat was strong. I slapped her face gently, which wasn't easy. I'm used to hitting hard with intention to hurt or kill. But either way, I was gentle. "Hey. Hey, wake up." She rolled her head toward me and groaned. She blinked her eyes a couple of times before opening them fully. I smiled at her, "You okay?" I held up two fingers, "How many fingers am I holding up?" She looked at me sort of confused, "Uhh… five?"

"You probably have a concussion. What's your name?"

"Marissa Carrington. Who are you?" (AN: Marissa looks like this: . )

"My name's Logan. I'm going to take you somewhere safe, okay?" She nodded her head and tried to sit up, but that didn't work. I took off my jacket and folded it up into a make-shift pillow. I placed it under her head and let her lay down for a few minutes until the dizziness passed. I picked her up and carried her bridal-style out of the alley. I turned to where I parked the motorcycle. I yelled, "God damn it!", when I saw that it was gone. Mystique must've gained consiousness and took off with it. But I didn't hear a motor. "Something tells me that Magneto's not far away."

"Who?" _I really should quite talking_… "Nevermind. I'll explain everything later. Right now, we need to worry about getting back. It's a 30-mile trip. It'd take us at least 3 days to get back walking."

"If you'll put me down, I'll give you my cell phone and you can call somebody." I set her down and she pulled her phone out of her pocket. I took it and dialed Storm's number. I got her voicemail automatically. She must have a class right now. I dialed the Professor's office number, as much as I hated to. He answered after two rings, "Logan, I'm glad you called. I was beginning to worry. Are you alright?"

"We're fine. We need someone to pick us up."

"Who's 'us'? Where are you at? What's going on? Logan…"

"I'm in front of an alley in New York City. I ran into Mystique and I get the feeling Magneto's not far behind her. Scott's motorcycle's gone. I don't know what happened to it."

"Fine, but who's the 'us', Logan?"

"Marissa Carrington. Mystique attacked her. I'm lucky I got here when I did, or she'd be dead right now." I head Xavier sigh on the other end of the line, "Okay. I'll send Scott and Storm with the X-Jet. They'll be there shortly."

"Great." I hung up the phone and handed it to Marissa. "We'll be home in no time. We'll have a ride here in five mintues—ten max." We sat down on the sidewalk and before you know it, Marissa falls asleep. I lay her down and rest her head in my lap. While waiting for the jet, I start thinking of the things I've gotta do tomorrow. I forgot that tomorrow was September 11th. I've gotta go to the World Trade Center and pick up some international mutants coming to Xavier's School. Some from India, China, Russia, and one from Iraq. I think there's even one from Afghanistan.

Five minutes later, the X-Jet landed in the middle of the street. Scott, Storm, and Jean walked down the ramp out of the Jet. Scott was the first to walk out, and he looked _really_ pissed. "Logan! What the hell happened to my bike? How the hell do you lose a Harley?" I laid Marissa's head on my jacket and stood up.

"Hey! Chill, or I'll have Bobby do it for you!"

"_Chill?_ I paid four-thousand dollars for that bike!" He got in my face, "And _you _lost it!" He brought his finger to the side of his visor, "I outta blast you clean out of New York," he growled at me. One of my claws slid out of my fist and I pressed the point on his gut, "The difference between you and me, beamer-brain, is I can survive a blast, but there's a slim chance you can survive a stab." Jean took control of our minds, "Stop! Shake hands," Scott and I shook hands, "Scott, apologize."

"I'm sorry. I know you didn't lose the bike. It was stolen."

"Logan, accept his apology."

"It's okay. I'm sorry I threatened to stab you." Jean released her control on us. If there's one thing I hate the most, it's having my mind and body controlled. It's the only time I ever feel weak and I hate it.

I picked Marissa up and carried her bridal-style onto the Jet. I put Marissa in a seat and strapped her in. I sat in the seat across the aisle from her. Jean sat beside Marissa. Storm and Scott sat in the pilots' seats. We started taking off and I grabbed the arms of my seat and gripped them until my knuckles were white. I hate flying, especially the take-off, the landing, turbulance, and flying in storms. Scott yelled at me, "You gonna survive, fly-boy?"

"SHUT UP! You're really pushin' it!" Jean told Scott to shut up, again. I shut my eyes really tight until I could tell we were on smooth air. I released my grip and opened my eyes slowly.

We landed in the Jet's hanger (like at an airport). I picked Marissa up and carried her to the school's medical room. It's pretty much like a private hospital and doctor's office. Jean and Hank McCoy are the doctors, since they know about mutant bodies. I laid her down on the table. Hank walked in the door, "Logan! It's been a while, hasn't it?" I shook his hand, "Sure has, furball." Hank laughed. I don't know what it is, but we sure get along pretty good. "Who's this young lady?"

"Marissa Carrington. Mystique attacked her in an alley in NYC."

"Do you know if she's a mutant?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you could tell us that." He shrugged and grabbed a small flashlight. He pryed open on of her eyes and shined it. Her other eye blinked open. Hank turned off the flashlight, smiled and said, "Hello." I think Hank was hoping for a pleasant response, but instead, he got a blood-curdling scream. She started to jump up off the table, but I grabbed her and held her down, but she still struggled. "Scott, hold her legs!" He grabbed her just above her knees. I started talking to her, "Hey, calm down. Shh. You're fine. Relax." Jean came over and helped me hold her. "Sweetie, calm down," Jean looked at me, "Logan, on that table, there's a syringe. Grab it." I grabbed the needle and handed it to Jean. She stuck the needle into Marissa's arm. Almost immediately, she quite struggling. We let her go slowly, but I still held her hand. Marissa started to talk, "What was that?" I looked up and noticed Hank had left, "That was Doctor Hank McCoy. He's a mutant, like us. He also goes by 'Beast'."

"I see why. Where am I?"

"Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. It's a school for mutants."

"Then I'm one of you. You might wanna let go of my hand." I let go of her and she turned to metal. "I also go by 'Metallica'." She turned back into her normal form.

"I guess that's why Mystique attacked you."

"Mystique?"

"Another mutant, but she's not with us. She's on Magneto's side."

"Magneto?"

"I guess there's a lot of explaning to do…"


	2. Dramatic and Dangerous Night

***Logan's Point of View***

Between Professor X, Jean, Hank, and I, we managed to explain everything that was going on; the school, mutants, the whole package. And she understood. She even told us her story, "I first realized I was different when I was a sophomore in high school. I was always an outcast, being picked on by other people; mainly bullies. A group of girls had cornered me and one of them went to punch me and I grabbed her fist. When I did, there was a metallic clank. She went to the hospital with a broken wrist and fractured knuckles. When I went back to school the day after the incident, I was stared at and avoided. Even the teachers steered clear of me. My parents had gone in to talk to the principle after school. I sat outside his office, but I could still hear what was being said. The principle said it would be best for me to leave. My parents _agreed_. They discussed sending me to a boot camp. They didn't even consider what I wanted. So I ran. I started heading east from my hometown—Dunnegan, Missouri—, went through St. Louis, Chicago, Cleveland, Boston, Atlantic City, and wound up in New York City. I've been on the run since I was 15. That's six years I've been out on my own. The rest is history. I'm here, but I still feel so alone." Tears started rolling down her cheeks. I honestly felt sorry for her. I wrapped my arms around her and she rested her head on my shoulder and she cried. I ran my fingers through her dark hair, "Don't worry. Things will get better. Almost everyone here has been through something like that—including me." She slid herself out of my arms, "How long were you running?" I looked back at the professor, "Should I tell her?"

"I don't see what harm it would do." I looked Marissa in the eyes, "Truth is I don't know how long I ran. I don't even know how old I am. I know nothing about my past life. Something erased my memory years ago. Everything before 1985, wiped out. I was barely getting by for 15 years." Jean had left the room and came back a minute later with an envelope. It had my name on it. She took my x-rays out and hung them on the light-screen-thing. "Logan has a metal inside of him called Adamantium. It's supposedly indestructible. But it doesn't occur naturally. The metal was surgically grafted into his bones. And Logan," I looked at her, "I've been doing some more research with Dr. McCoy, and it seems that those aren't your original claws. We think they were originally bone." I extended the claws on my right hand and stared at them. I still had trouble believing that I was experimented on. But I knew that it was true. "Did you think I was part of an experiment?" Marissa asked.

"I really doubt it, but we need to take x-rays and run some tests first, just to be certain."

"Let's do it." Jean took Marissa into the x-ray room. About 10 minutes later, Jean came in with the x-rays. She put them up on the screen, "Hank and I found no signs of surgical implantation, but we do know what the metal is." Jean stopped talking and Hank broke in, "Our findings really are rather odd. Marissa will want to know—but Logan, I doubt you will." I clenched my jaw, "I can handle it." Hank sighed, "It's Adamantium."

"I thought you said that it didn't occur naturally!"

"It would appear we were wrong, Logan. Nobody's right all the time." I thought maybe we'd find something about where I was from, but now we were even further away from an answer—any one of them. The professor made a suggestion, "It's getting rather late. We could all use some well-earned rest. That means claws in, Logan." Hank usually isn't a wise-ass, but he must've felt like being one, "Maybe Logan could get into another fight with Scott—maybe this time, in front of the students. I'm sure they'd enjoy that."

"I'm not in the mood to do anything that doesn't have the word 'beer' in it."

"You could fight for beers."

"Now that doesn't sound too bad."

I showed Marissa where everything was around the school, but I didn't show her Cerebro. I showed her to her room next door to mine, "Thanks for…well, everything. I don't know how I'll be able to make it up to you, or to everyone else."

"It's alright. Don't worry about it. You're not the first damsel in distress I've rescued."

"Who's the other one?"

"You'll meet her tomorrow. Right now, you'd better get some sleep. You should be able to rest easy. If you need anything, just come next door and wake me up, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Logan." She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek. "Good night," she looked at my dog tags, "Wolverine." I tucked the tags in my shirt. She went into her room and closed the door.

I went into my room and grabbed a bottle of beer from my fridge. I popped the cap off it and sat down on the edge of my bed. I took a swig of it and it down on my night stand and pulled a cigar and lighter out of the drawer. I lit the cigar and took a big puff of it. I leaned back against the headboard, scooped up the remote and turned on the TV. I really didn't want to watch the news because they talked about nothing but mutants. I flipped through the channels and finally settled on a war movie. I finished my cigar and beer and the movie at about ten o'clock. I threw away the last of the cigar and empty beer bottle. I went into my bathroom and turned on the shower. I stood in front of the mirror above the sink and stared into the face that looked back at me, "So much time, so few answers." I undressed and stepped into the shower. I didn't bother washing as soon as I stepped in. I just stood under the shower head and let the water drain over me. It was a pretty damn rough day. I about dozed off in the shower when I heard a scream and the sound of glass shattering. I turned off the shower and dried off in ten seconds, max. I grabbed a pair of boxers from my dresser and put them on. Then someone started banging on my door, "Logan! Logan, it's me! Open the door! Logan! It's Marissa!" I opened the door and Marissa ran in. She had no color in her face, "Marissa, what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost!" She nodded her head, "I think I did. He was big, and blue, and…" I cut her off, "You didn't see Hank, did you?"

"This wasn't big, blue, and furry. This looked like a demon. He had a long, pointed tail, and he had an accent, German I think." I sat her down on the bed, "You stay here. I'm gonna go check it out."

"He can move from place to place, too. I mean, disappear from one spot and show up in another."

"A teleporter."

"I don't care what you wanna call it, but it was scary shit!" I laughed at what she said, "You ain't seen anything yet. You'll see worse, I'm sure." _I probably shouldn't have said that._ "If I'm not back in 5 minutes, go down the hall 2 doors to Jean and Summers' room. He'll send help." She nodded and I left the room.

I slid out my claws and opened the door slowly. I turned on a light. At first I didn't see anything. But then, something pounced me from above. As soon as I hit the ground, the weight of whatever attacked me disappeared as quickly as it hit me. Whatever the thing was, it was now hanging off the ceiling. I got to my feet and looked at the freak. _If this thing is a teleporter, the only way to get him to stay in one place is to taunt him—make him feel like a coward. _"If you're a real man, why don't you come down here and fight me hand-on-hand?"

"Do I look like a man to you? I'm a freak, just like the rest of you!" He definitely had a German accent. "You're no less of a man than I am, unless you can't fight me without using your powers—or at least your teleportation."

"I will if you will." _Shit. Didn't see _that_ coming._ "Fine. I won't use my claws." I drew in my claws as the thing leaped down from the ceiling. _Hopefully he doesn't know about my healing. _I had some experience fighting hands-on. I've done some cage fighting in the past. First thing I learned was never let your opponent distract you and keep your eye on him. I stared the thing in the eye and before I could strike, he spun around, hit me with his tail and sent me flying out the window. I lay on the grass and groaned before opening my eyes. I stood up and made a jump through the window. I looked around the room and I was flung across the room and through the wall into my room. I heard Marissa scream and Blue Boy laugh. I got to my feet and cracked my neck as the slices on my head and arms healed. "Okay, _now_ I'm pissed!" I popped my claws and jumped through the hole in the wall, "Where are you?" I looked around the room and smelled the air, but there was nothing unusual other than the big hole that peers straight into my room and the shattered window. I stepped back through the hole in my wall and Marissa was sitting in the middle of my bed with her knees pulled to her chest, trembling. I pulled my claws in and sat next her. I brought my arms up to hold her, but she stopped me, "Don't touch me. Just let me get a handle on my nerves." Her words were kinda broken up from her teeth chattering. I brought my arms back down, "Okay. Just try to calm down. Do you want somethin' to drink?" She shook her head no. She jumped up and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Two seconds later, I heard retching, "Poor girl." Jean, Summers, and Storm ran into my room, "Gee, guys. Thanks for knocking." They all looked around the room, mouths wide open. Summers made _another_ smart-ass remark, "What the hell happened in here? Did the wall piss you off?"

"No, but the thing that flung me through it did!" Scott hung his head and sighed, "What thing? You didn't think it was Hank again, did you?"

"Okay, that's not fair! He broke into my room and started snoopin' through my stuff! What did you want me to do?" Storm busted up the argument, "Guys! Can't you guys act like adults for five minutes when you're around each other? Good God, you guys act like you're brothers!"

"Oh, hell no! No way Beamer Brain and I act like brothers!"

"I take that as an insult! If we acted like brothers, I'd either be runnin' around in leather pants and an undershirt smelling like a sewer—or Logan would have some sense of decency. Neither of 'em are very likely to ever happen. _Ever_." Storm slapped us both in the back of the head, pretty hard I gotta say. She sucked in air through her teeth, "I'm gonna go check on Marissa." She walked into the bathroom to check on her and Jean talked to us, "Scott, Logan. If you don't apologize, I'm gonna _make_ you do it! And then I'll make you start dancing like damn ballerinas!" Scott tried calming his wife, but it didn't do a shit worth of good. She cut him off when he was talking and told him to apologize. I had to bite my tongue to keep from smiling. "Logan, I'm sorry."

"Same here. I think I'm gonna go to bed. I'm beat. I can sleep with a hole in the wall." Storm and Marissa came out of the bathroom and Marissa still looked pale. "Logan, can I stay with you for a few minutes?" I felt myself smile a little bit, "Sure." She sat down beside me and everyone else left. She sat on the bed and leaned against me, "Sorry about gettin' sick. I just get queasy when I get too stressed or nervous."

"It's alright. It wasn't your fault."

"Earlier, you said that you spent 15 years barely getting by. How did you make the money that you had?"

"Cage fights. I traveled all around Canada and stopped in small towns with bars that held fights. I entered as many as I could, fought, and won."

"You didn't get hurt?"

"It hurt like hell sometimes, but it never left a mark. I'd let the other guy beat me some before takin' him out. Made a lot of people mad because they all bet their money against me when guys 6 inches and a hundred pounds over me went into the ring. But I made the money. Nobody would've hired me on for a real job."

"Where did you live?"

"My old truck and camper. It got totaled last year."

"How'd that happen?" I took a deep breath and sighed, "I'll tell you more stories tomorrow after I get back from New York, 'kay?" She nodded. "Do you want to stay with me tonight? I can make a bed on the floor and you can stay in the bed."

"Logan, you've done enough. Too much, really. I can't ask for you to do more."

"You ain't askin'. I'm offering."

"Okay, but I'm sleeping on the floor. I'm not gonna kick you out of your bed!"

"I don't think so! Remember—my room, my rules!"

"I don't care! I told you—you've done too much already!"

"You know what?"

"What?"

"We'll share the bed. Agreed?"

"Agreed." We pulled the covers back and crawled into the bed. I slid to the middle of my side and Marissa looked like she was about to roll off the edge, "You can scoot closer, you know that right?"

"Yeah, but I don't wanna roll over on you."

"Don't worry about it if you do. I don't wake easily, so it won't bother me." She acted hesitant, "Okay." She moved away from the edge, "Good night, Logan. And thanks…for everything."

"Good night." And we fell asleep.

***Four o'clock in the morning, Logan's dreaming***

I didn't know what was happening. I felt myself being lowered into a tank of water. There were flashes of bright lights and faces I didn't recognize. I was strapped down to a table of some kind. I heard a whirring sound, but I didn't know what it was. Next thing I know… pain. Intense pain, almost unbearable. I was struggling to get free, but it was useless. There was a person in a mask of some sort standing above me with a needle in his hand.

My eyes shot open and I sat up with a yell. There was someone sitting beside me, but I didn't know who it was. I slid my claws out and stabbed the person in a split second and _she_ screamed. I looked at the face of the person I stabbed… Marissa. I stabbed Marissa. I was panting and she sounded like she was choking. I looked at my claws piercing her body. I slid them in and stared her in the eyes. I could almost feel her pain and fear. I felt my own fear, and nothing but. I moved my lips, but no words came out. Finally, I spit the words out, "Help me." It didn't come out quite as loud as I wanted, "Somebody help!" She reached to touch my face and I felt the energy just drain from me. I felt my skin crack and my eyes widen. I grunted with pain. I feel myself fall to the floor and then I heard voices… Then nothing.

I woke up and the professor was sitting beside my bed, "Wha… What happened?"

"I think we've just discovered that Marissa has another power, and it's just like Rogue's."

"Why didn't things happen before? I've touched her since this." My voice was barely above a whisper.

"We think she has the ability to control it somehow. It's like a mutation or an evolution of Rogue's power."

"I feel like she almost killed me."

"If she had held on any longer, she could have. History seems to repeat itself with you recently."

"You're tellin' me… That's twice I've hade the live sucked outta me. How is she?"

"She'll be fine. She's just a little shook up." I closed my eyes and sighed. "I thought the nightmares were over. If I knew that they weren't, I would've told her no. And now this happens…"

"You're nightmares probably surfaced because of your visit to Alkali Lake. It's probably triggered something in your memory somehow."

"I want you to read my mind again."

"Logan, it's too soon. You need time to see if you can recover any other memories naturally."

"We had a deal! You told me…" I was cut off with a coughing fit. I finally quit hawking up my lung and closed my eyes. Professor Xavier laid a hand on my arm, "You should rest. I will send Cyclops to pick the students up in the morning."

"No. I'll go. A drive'll help me clear my head."

"If you're certain…"

"I am. Don't worry. I'll be recovered by morning." He patted my arm softly, "Okay. Good night, Logan."

"Good night, Professor." I fell asleep for the last time that night.


	3. Danger Where It's Least Expected

**A/N: I forgot to add the disclaimer. I do not own any of the X-men characters. I give full credit to Marvel and Stan Lee. Marissa Carrington/Metallica is the only character that I own. **

***Logan's Point of View***

My alarm blared at seven o'clock the next morning. I rolled over onto my side and smacked the snooze button. I rolled onto my back and yanked the covers over my head with a groan. "Ugh…shit." The fuckin' alarm went off five minutes later. "Ugh! Alright already! I'm up!" I yelled at the clock. I turned off the alarm and rolled out of bed. I turned around to look on the other side of my bed. I expected to find Marissa right where she was last night. I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to figure out where she may be, and then I remembered what had happened. I got out of bed and changed into a pair of black jeans and a red plaid button-up shirt. I left the top two buttons undone. I brushed my teeth and got my hair out of its bed-head state and into the Duck-Tail style, just the way I like it. I put on some Old Spice and walked back to my bedroom. I slid my boots on and pulled my favorite leather jacket over my shoulders and locked my door on the way out.

I walked into the kitchen of the school, which I thought was empty, until I heard a voice say, "Morning, Logan." I turned around to see Marissa sitting on a stool in front of the counter in the middle of the room. "Marissa." I sat down beside her. "Are you alright? I'm sorry about last night. That's not the first time that's happened. I'm really sorry."

"I'm fine, Logan. But I'm more worried about you. When I left, you were nearly dead."

"I'm alright. I have an accelerated healing power. I can recover from injuries in seconds or minutes that would take almost anybody else weeks or months."

"All injuries?"

"Well, if it's not too serious. Take for example, last night. That took longer because the damage was pretty bad. The longest it's taken for me to recover was 2 or 3 days."

"What happened to you?" Another voice interjected, "_I_ happened to him." It was Rogue with her down-home, Mississippi accent. I introduced the two and we continued our conversation, but Rogue told Marissa what had happened, the short version, "Magneto had kidnapped me. He gave me his power so I could power his machine that would turn humans into mutants. Well, with the help of the team, Logan destroyed the machine. According to Logan, I was dead." I picked up from there, "I got the restraints off of her and I held her in my arms. I thought she was dead. I pulled my glove off and put my hand on her face so she could absorb my healing power." I paused. "Nothing happened, at first. After about thirty seconds, I felt the energy being drained from me. Old wounds started opening up and bleeding in my face, by back, arms, everywhere." Rogue told the rest, "I gained consciousness and pushed his body away from me. I nearly killed him. We got him to the infirmary and I wanted to kill anybody who got in my way. I was so mad at myself. He's my best friend, and he nearly died tryin' to save me. I had inherited some of him personality traits along with his power. I started actin' like Logan."

"And according to Storm and Jean, it wasn't pretty." I smirked at Rogue. Marissa laid her hand on mine, "That was brave, both of you." I looked at Rogue, "It still scares me. It scares me because I was so close to losing her. I don't know what I'd do without her." Rogue stood up and wrapped her arms around my neck and I hugged her back. She gave me a peck on the cheek, but not in a romantic way—more like a father-daughter way. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here." I looked at my watch, 7:30. "Crap! I need to get a move-on!" I ate two pieces of toast and a bowl of cereal before I made way to the World Trade Center.

I arrived at five-till eight. I parked the van and made my way inside. I asked the lady at the front desk where I was to pick up the students, "Fortieth floor, Room 4012." I said thanks and made my way. Apparently, the 40th floor had been reserved for mutant affairs. I walked into the room. There were five teenagers sitting in some chairs in the corner of the room. A boy that looked about 15 stood up, "Are you Professor Logan?" He stuck his hand out for me to shake. I grasped his hand, "I wouldn't say 'professor', but yeah, I'm Logan. And you are…?"

"Ian Carson."

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen. I'm from Montreal, Canada."

"A fellow Canadian. Nice. What's your mutation, kid?" He closed his hand and opened in with a small ball of fire. I raised my eyebrow, "Fire." Ian nodded then looked back at the flame. He blew on the fireball and it froze instantly. He smirked, "And ice. I can make fire _and_ ice."

The other kids started introducing themselves. Hong-li Chan is a 14-year-old boy from China. When I asked him what his power is, he tipped a water bottle upside-down and made the water float in the air. Then he moved his finger around in a circle and the water followed his movements. Then he made the water go back into the bottle. He told me he can manipulate water, but not make it.

There was a 15-year-old East Indian girl named Aloki Koothrapoli. When I asked to see her power, she shifted to look like me. I smirked, "Nice. You're gonna be of some use, kid. Can you imitate voices?"

"You're gonna be of some use." She said it in _my_ voice.

There was a twelve-year-old Iraqi girl named Adra bin Laden. I asked to see her power. She held my hand, looked me in the eyes and began giving commands, "I want you to get down and do 5 push ups." I did as she said, but not by choice. I did the push-ups and got to my feet. "Hypnosis?"

"Only with physical or direct eye contact."

Selina Beauregard was a 17-year-old Russian girl. "What's your power?" She disappeared from right in front of me. I felt someone tap my shoulder. I spun around and there she was, "Hello. I'm a teleporter." She moved and appeared with the other kids. Adra, the Iraqi girl, started talking to me, but I couldn't hear a word she was saying. There was the sound of an airplane getting closer and closer. I ran to the window and there was a plane headed straight for us. I turned around and yelled, "Everybody get out of here! **NOW**!" Everybody turned toward me, and then they saw the plane almost to the building. Everybody started rushing out of the room, using their powers to try and escape. The oldest of the group of kids, Selina, grabbed everybody's hand, "Logan, grab someone's hand!"

"Go! I'll be fine!" She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. "Go, damn it!" She closed her eyes and everyone teleported out of the building. I started running for the door and there was a huge explosion behind me. It knocked me to the ground. I must've blacked out, because when I opened my eyes, the room was engulfed in flames and filled with smoke. I shook the glass from my hair and got to my feet. I could feel the gashes in my body closing up. I tilted my head to the side and cracked my neck. I looked around to assess what had happened. Plane flew into one of the Twin Towers. Not much to it, or so I thought. Almost instantly, I heard another crash. It came from the Tower next to the one I was in. The room was hot. I was panting and sweating heavily. I was about ready to go look for survivors when I heard a small cry. If it wasn't for my acute sense of hearing, I probably wouldn't have heard it. I looked around for the source, "Is someone there? Hello?" I heard the same voice say my name. "Keep talking!" The voice got louder and louder. I managed to make it out as a little girl's. Lying on her back beside the doorway was the Iraqi girl, Adra. I kneeled down beside her. She coughed, "My leg." I lifted up her skirt to about the middle of her thigh, revealing a large and deep gash on her right leg. "How bad is it?" I made sure she couldn't see it, "It's not that bad. Can I use your scarf as a bandage?" I reached up to take it off her head and she stopped me, "Stop! It's against my culture." I touched her face gently. "I think we can make an exception this time." She nodded her head and I took the head dress off. I wrapped it around the gash in her leg and lowered her skirt. "Wrap your arms around my neck. That's it." I put one arm behind her knees and the other in the middle of her back. I lifted her up and started walking toward the door. Selina appeared out of nowhere! "Logan, I'm going to get us out of here. Kneel down!" I did and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders from behind, "Ready?"

"Go!" Adra and I said in unison. I closed my eyes and the next thing I know, where in the middle of a New York street. I looked up at the Twin Towers just in time to see them starting to collapse. "Everyone move! It's all comin' down! I ran out of the way with Adra in my arms. I ducked down behind a truck pulled over to the curb. Selina followed and kneeled down beside me. She and I leaned back against the truck, panting. I looked at the bundle in my arms, her head buried in my chest. I handed her to Selina, "Take her. I'm going to help." I got up and stopped short. A big slab of concrete was falling straight down. I looked down where the slab would land, and there was a little boy standing there. I ran over to him, grabbed him and jumped out of the way. The slab missed us by inches. I carried him back to Selina and Adra. I set him down on his feet and asked Selina,

"Where are the others?" She pointed to a café across the street, "They're in there."

"Go over there with them. I'm going to help them look for survivors." I took my X-phone out of my pocket and handed it to the Russian girl. "Speed-dial one. Ask for Xavier. Tell him that we need help down here. Tell him to send the team down with the X-Jet. Tell 'em that it's an emergency. There are people hurt. Can you do that?" She nodded. She stood up with Adra in her arms. I kneeled down to the five-year-old's height. "What's your name, son?" Through his tears, he told me his name was Jimmy. "Jimmy, I'm going to have you go with Selina and Adra. Can you do that for me?" He shook his head no, "I wanna stay with you." I closed my eyes, exhaled sharply, and hung my head forward. "You can't. I've gotta go help those people, okay?"

"You'll get hurt."

"Trust me, I won't. Can you go with the girls for me?" He nodded yes, barely. "Okay. Remember what to do Selina. If number one doesn't answer, keep going down. Two, three, four, et cetera."

"Yes, sir." We went our separate ways. I ran toward the buildings. I ran up to a fire truck, "What can I do? I'm here to help!" One of the fireman tried to push me away, "Sir, you can't be here. The other building could collapse any second!" I shoved him out of the way, ignoring his yells for me to stop. I approached the rubble and started heaving chunks of concrete out of the way. I started sniffing the air as I dug deeper until I smelled something—blood. I could pick it out between the dust and smoke. "Hey! Get over here! There's someone under here!" Five firemen ran up and helped me start digging. I lifted the heavier chunks of debris. I picked one up and I found the face of a little blonde girl. "I found her!" They helped me remove the rest of the rubble until she was completely uncovered. I lifted her up and laid her on the street away from the debris. I felt her neck to find a pulse… but there wasn't one to be found. I breathed in her scent, and she smelled like death. I closed my eyes, "It's too late. She's dead." I felt my lips starting to quiver as I tried to fight back tears. I had seen death before, but never to a person this young. She couldn't have been older than seven years old. I gave up on fighting the tears and let them fall. I let them fall for the little girl and for the other people that I knew was dead. I held the hand of the dead child and recited a verse from the Bible, the only one I knew, "'The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of the death. I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.' Rest in peace, child." I carried her over an ambulance. "I've got a child here. She's dead." A male paramedic took her from me and laid her on a gurney. I walked over to her and pulled the blanket over her body and face, fresh tears streaming down my face. The medic put a hand on my shoulder, "Did you know her?"

"No."

"Just not used to seeing death, huh?" I turned my head toward him, "I've seen death countless times, just in nobody this young. This young…She hardly lived at all."

"Well, we need people to clear the area. Why don't you get home? You don't need a medic, do you?" I shook my head no and walked toward the café where the kids were. "Did you reach someone?"

"I reached someone named Psycho, Cyclops… something like that. They'll be here soon." Just then, the phone rang. I answered it. It was Scott. "Logan! We can't land. We're idling above the café. I don't know how you're gonna get up here!"

"I've got a teleporter. We'll start getting up there. Just stay put!" I turned toward Selina, "Start transporting us to the Jet. It's right above the café." She nodded once, grabbed Ian and Hong-li's hands, transported them up and re-appeared all within a matter of seconds. She wrapped her arms around Aloki and Adra, teleported and came back for me and Jimmy. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to a jet."

"I get airsick."

"That makes two of us. Just close your eyes for a minute and everything will be fine." He nodded at me. I kneeled down, held him to my chest and torso. Selina wrapped her arms around my neck again and transported us up to the jet. When I got there, I was greeted by Scott, Storm, and Rogue. Scott took Jimmy and strapped him into a seat. Rogue attacked me with a bear hug, "Logan! I was worried something had happened to you! It's all over the news! We cancelled school for the rest of the day because of it and probably tomorrow, too." I held her close to me and didn't say a word. Scott came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder, "Logan, you okay?" I let Rogue go and turned toward Scott.

***Scott's POV***

I put a hand on Logan's shoulder, "Logan, you okay?" He let Rogue go and turned toward me, then he did something absolutely shocking—he hugged me. I couldn't believe it! Logan, the toughest and most bad-ass guy I know, was hugging me! Normally, I would've started cracking comments, but I decided not to. I just hugged him back. I heard him sobbing softly. Then I heard him say, "I'm going to kill whoever did this to these people!" He let me go, took a step back, and unsheathed his claws on his left hand. He stroked the blades with the fingers of his other hand. "And they won't even see it coming…" He went and sat down in a seat. He buried his head in his hands. The next thing I know, the little boy I took from his arms was standing in front of Logan. Logan looked up at the boy. He sat up and the child crawled onto Logan's lap. The child laid his head on Logan's shoulder and Logan wrapped his arms around the child, giving him a kiss on his head. I heard the boy ask him, "What's your name?" I could barely hear Logan answer, "I'm Logan. How old are you?"

"Five. Are—are you a mutant?"

"Everyone here is."

"Can I see the knives?" I smiled as Logan extended his claws, showing them to the kid. The boy's eyes widened with amazement. "Can I touch them?"

"Be extra careful. They're sharp." The boy rubbed his fingers up and down Logan's claws super slowly, taking care not to cut himself. "This is neat!" A small smile formed in the corner of Logan's mouth. "Yeah. They come in handy sometimes." He moved the boy's fingers from his claws and retracted his claws. The boy rubbed Logan's knuckles. "When they come out, does it hurt?"

"Every time."

"I'm sorry. Mr. Logan?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for saving me." He kissed the child again. "You're welcome, Jimmy."


	4. The SameDay Aftermath

***Logan's POV***

I didn't say a word the entire fly home. My whole body and mind just felt numb. I didn't even get nauseous when we took off or hit turbulence. I just sat back in my seat, clutching Jimmy in my arms. I thought about that little girl that I pulled out from beneath the rubble. She didn't deserve to die. I've seen people die countless times, but it was people that earned death and had what was coming to them. It wasn't children… it was people that were trying to harm them.

We got back to the mansion ten minutes later. Scott carried Adra to the infirmary. I helped Jean show the students to their dorms. Jean pointed something out to me after we showed the last student, Hong-li, his room. "Logan, what are we going to do with Jimmy? He really shouldn't stay here, since he's not a mutant." I looked down at the little blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy holding my hand. He looked up at me with pleading eyes, like he was begging me not to let him go. I looked back up at Jean, "Let's talk to the professor, see what he thinks." Jean offered her hand to Jimmy, but he just moved closer to me, almost like he was afraid of her. "I'm not going to harm you. You don't have to be afraid." Jimmy looked up at me, like he wanted me to confirm what Jean had said. "It's alright. Go ahead. Take her hand." He took Jean's hand hesitantly, but didn't let go of mine. Hand-in-hand… in-hand, we walked to Professor Xavier's office. I knocked on his door and he told us to come in. The three of us walked in. "Hello Logan, Jean," he said nodding to each of us. He rolled out from behind his desk and looked at Jimmy, "Hello, young fellow. Who might you be?" He kind of hid behind me shyly, "Jimmy."

"Well, Jimmy, we need to figure out where you are going to stay. Do you know where your parents are?" His lips started quaking and tears fell from his eyes, "They were in the building. I got outside before it happened. They were up high…" He didn't finish his sentence because he started crying harder. He hugged my leg and I picked him up and held him against me. Jimmy wrapped his arms around my neck and cried into my shoulder. A look of sadness came over Professor X's face, "Poor child. He needs somewhere to stay, but I am hesitant about keeping him _here_. I don't know how well having a normal child staying in a mutant school will go. Some of the students may view him as a threat." I looked at Xavier in disbelief. "A _threat_? He's five years old for God's sake!"

"True. Throw that point aside. Where are we going to room him?"

"Room him with Rogue or Bobby Drake. Hell let him stay with Storm!" He thought about it for a minute then replied, "I think it would be too risky letting him stay with Rogue. Storm's room has an extra cot. He'll stay there for the time being." He put two fingers to his temples and closed his eyes for about 10 seconds, almost looking in a hypnotized state. He opened his eyes. "Storm is coming to meet the boy. She'll take him in for now."

"Good. I'd let him stay with me, but after what happened last night with Marissa… I just don't want to risk it."

"Wise decision, Logan." Right then, Storm walked into Xavier's office. She stood beside me and looked at Jimmy. "Is this him, Logan?"

"Yeah. Jimmy?" He looked at me, then Storm, then back at me. "This is Storm. You're going to be staying in her room, okay? Just for a little while, okay?" Jimmy shook his head in protest, "No. I want to stay with you, Logan." _This kid just doesn't want to let me go._ I exhaled sharply, exasperated. "Jimmy, you can't stay with me. People tend to get hurt around me. I don't want to hurt you. Understand?" He nodded his head slowly. "Yes, sir."

"Can you go with Storm now? I promise she's not going to hurt you." He nodded his head and I put him down. Storm offered her hand to him and he took it, reluctantly. As he was walking away with her, he gazed back at me over his shoulder with the saddest look I've ever seen on a kid. Xavier spoke up, "He feels as though you're abandoning him, Logan. Not to mention he's terrified of everybody else around him. You're the only one he does not fear."

"Did you have to read his mind to figure that out?"

"For part of it, yes."

"I'll talk to him later tonight. Maybe he'll be calm enough to listen." The professor look at me with a serious look, "Logan, remember. He's just a young boy. An orphan. It will take some time for him to adjust. We just need to give him time to grieve and settle into his surroundings. He's much like you were when you first arrived. He just wants answers." I folded my arms across my chest and sat down on the arm of a chair, "Can't blame him. Five years old and no parents. Kid's got it pretty bad. You're right about him needing time. I'm just not so sure about him being like me." Xavier nodded his head slowly, "Trust me. He's like you in more ways than you know." I shook my head disagreeing, "I just don't see it I guess. I can't see as far into someone as you can. Guess I'll just have to take your word for it."

"I suppose so." The bell rang for the students to go to class. "There isn't a class right now, right?"

"No. I decided for the better of all of us to call of classes for the rest of today and tomorrow. Maybe you ought to take advantage of it and get some rest. You look like you need it."

"That's okay, Professor. I'm gonna check up on the new kids and go to the Danger Room for a while." I turned to walk out of the room and the professor stopped me, "I will see you later, at lunch, Logan?" I looked at him over my shoulder, "Doubt it. I plan on working so hard it hurts."

"You and I both know that's not likely to happen." I half-smiled at the professor, "Just because I heal fast doesn't mean I don't feel pain." I left his office to check on the new students. I first stopped at Hong-li's room. I knocked on his door and walked in. He was playing with some water in the air, moving around in random patterns. I could tell he was upset. "Logan. Something I can do for you?" he asked me with a thick Chinese accent. I shook my head, "No. Just checkin' up on everybody. Are you all right? You seem upset."

"Just scared," he told me sadly. I looked at him sympathetically. "That makes two of us." I left Hong-li. It was pretty much the same thing with Selina, Aloki (the East Indian girl), and Ian. I made my way to the infirmary to check up on the injured Adra. She smiled when she saw me and greeted me with a heavy Arabic tone, "Hello. How are you, Logan?"

"I'm fine. I'm more concerned about you. How's that cut?"

"Doctor Grey gave me stitches and a pain killer. I learned I do not like needles. They are somewhat frightening."

"Smart girl."

"Thank you. You are very smart too, Logan. You saved my life." I shrugged my shoulders, "It's no big deal. It's what I had to do. I just wish it hadn't happened."

"I know what you mean. I came to America in hopes of less violence, less pain. My first day, and…this happens." She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she looked at me with look of trust in her eyes. "Logan, if I tell you something, will you promise not to be angry?" I looked at her questioningly. "I'll try my best," I promised, knowing my temper might get the best of me. She sighed heavily, "I think my father is the one responsible for the attack." I looked at her with wide eyes, surprised. "What do you mean?" I pulled a chair up beside her bed and sat down heavily. "My father, Osama bin Laden, is the leader of one of the largest terrorist group in Iraq, in Asia for that matter. I overheard him talking to his second-in-command. He said they were going to kill many Americans, but I had no clue it would be New York City! My father spotted me and threatened to kill me if I said anything. So I ran away. I ran from the nightmare that I lived each and every day." I continued to look at her in awe. I couldn't find any words to say. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"As I said, I did not know it would be New York. Besides, nobody would believe me."

"I believe you."

"You will not say anything, will you?"

"Your secret's safe with me." She sighed again. "Can I tell you something else?"

"Sure."

"My name, Adra, means 'virgin' in Arabic. But I am not a virgin." She must've seen the look of awkwardness on my face. "This is getting too personal. I have said too much, have not I?" I quickly changed my expression, "No, no. It's fine. Keep talking."

"I did not lose my innocence by choice. My father, he did many terrible things to me. He took my virginity and tried to force me into wedding my uncle. That is another reason why I ran away." I saw her eyes start to water. I placed my hand on her forehead. "Don't worry. You're safe here. Don't fret about your past. I'll take care of you."

"You promise?"

"I swear." _That makes two people I've promised to protect: Adra and Rogue._ I stood up and left Adra to rest, making my way to the Danger Room. I went to the controls and set up a fight simulation. I took my shirt off and began the simulation. I started out by fighting Mystique at the Statue of Liberty like I had done a few months back. I fought her for ten minutes at the Advanced level of difficulty—and that was my warm-up! I took a five minute break and I went on to fight for what seemed like hours on the Expert level. It wasn't until Hank had come to check on me that I realized how long I had been in the Danger Room. "Logan, how long have you been in here?" I told the computer, "End simulation." I turned to Hank, "I don't know."

"What time did you start?"

"Eleven? Something like that?" Hank looked at his wrist watch and glanced up at me. "It's three-thirty in the afternoon. You've been in here for four and a half hours! That's a lot of physical strain, even for you." I bent over at the waist, resting my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. "I feel fine; better than… I did when… I got back from… New York." My sentence was broken up from my panting. Hank looked at me with concern. "Logan, are you sure you're all right?" I glanced up at him then back down at the ground, sweat dripping from my face and chest, "Yeah, just…gimme some time…to catch…my breath." I started feeling woozy and swaying back and forth. I started falling face-first and was dumb enough not to catch myself. Instead, I felt Hank catch me under my arms. "You aren't as fine as you think, Logan." I made an effort to pull myself away and recover, "I'm fine. I just need to catch my breath." I tried to convince him, but it didn't work. "Logan, you need rest. You've put quite a bit of strain on your body. Even your healing ability won't work to recover your body at an accelerated rate, my friend. You've done too much damage." He helped me get to my feet and I wrapped an arm behind his neck, "Smaller words, Hank. I'm not thinking straight."

"You've overheated. I'm going to take you to the infirmary." My vision blurred and I wasn't talking right. I slurred, "Anywhere but there…"

***Hank's Point of View***

Logan's speech slurred, "Anywhere but there…" I felt his dead weight after that. I looked at him. He was unconscious. "The heat did more damage than I thought." I heaved Logan over my shoulders, like a soldier in combat would carry a wounded war victim. I was concerned that he would wake up on the short trek to the infirmary in the basement and begin to fight me, but to my relief, he did not.

When I arrived with the unconscious Logan, Jean inquired on what had occurred. "He took place in a four-hour workout in the Danger Room." Jean looked absolutely appalled, "That's too much effort, even for Logan."

"Where shall I put him?" She pointed to an empty bed in the corner, "Just lay him there for now, Hank." I gently laid the limp Logan on the table. "Is there anything further that I can assist with, Jean?"

"Um, no. I don't think so. I'll take care of him. You can go if you want to, Hank." I nodded and smiled at the young Jean. She looked absolutely exhausted. "If you're certain."

"I am Hank. Please. We'll be fine."

"Very well." I strode out the door at back to my office, only hoping for the best of Logan.

***Jean's Point of View* **

Hank walked out of the door, leaving me with a sleeping Adra and a passed-out Logan. I began by taking Logan temperature. I just used a thermometer, the kind that you use in the ear. To my relief, he didn't wake up. His temperature read 102 degrees Fahrenheit. I looked at Logan. He looked tranquil and calm, which only happens when he's unconscious. "Why can't you always be this calm?" I whispered to him, hoping he couldn't realize what was going on around him. I got a bowl of cold water and a wash cloth. I soaked the rag, wrung it out, and placed it gently on his forehead. I looked up from Logan to find Adra limping toward the bed. "Can I help?"

"Sweetie, you shouldn't be up on that leg yet. It's still swollen."

"It is not bad. Please. I want to assist in some way." I sighed. I didn't feel much like debating right now. I handed her the thermometer. "Check his temperature every 10 minutes. We need to monitor it to make sure it doesn't increase. If it does start to go up, let me know immediately."

"If it goes down?"

"Don't make a fuss if it does. That's what needs to happen. He's at 102 right now. Our first goal is to get him below 100. Then we'll work on the norm." Adra looked at me somewhat perplexed, "'Norm'?"

"Normal. Sorry. I forgot English isn't your original language." I gave her another set of instructions, "Soak this wash cloth whenever it feels like it's getting warmer in this bowl of water. When you do that, wring it out and put back on his forehead. It'll help cool him down." She nodded her head, silently letting me know that she understood. I walked over to a supply closet and pulled out a floor fan. I carried over to Logan bed and plugged it in to the nearest outlet. I clicked it on to medium and adjusted it to where it was directly on Logan's body.

I moved over to my desk and recorded the data of Logan's current state. When I completed recording, I closed the record book, leaned back in my chair, and closed my eyes briefly, saying to myself, "It's going to be a long rest-of-the-day". I was exhausted, and it wasn't even five o'clock yet!


	5. Something's Wrong

***Logan's Point of View***

Images flashed through my mind, like a sneak peek into my past. But I wasn't looking from my point of view. It was like I was looking from no particular point. It was similar to the viewpoint of a movie. There were people around me, mainly blacks. But there was another group of people. I had no clue who they were, but they looked like trouble. They all had guns strapped to their backs and ammunition belts. There was one guy in particular that caught my attention. He had a buzz cut, dog-like canine teeth, and the fingernails of a bag lady. He looked so familiar… I, on the other hand, didn't even look like myself. I had a full, short beard and longer hair. I had a 12-guage shotgun strapped to my back and dog tags, but not the ones I have now. There were two tags on one metal strand.

I wasn't standing with the men. I was walking away from them. Buzz Cut was looking straight at me, yelling. But he couldn't have been yelling at me. He was yelling, "Jimmy! Jimmy!" I turned back to look at him. "We can't just let you walk away." I saw myself scowl as I tore the dog tags off my neck. I read what they said before I threw them down on the ground in hatred and anger. One had "Logan" imprinted on it, and the other had "James Howlett". Even though I wasn't looking through my eyes, I knew what I was feeling at every moment. I turned away and continued walking through the woods, leaving Buzz Cut with the last word, "Jimmy!"

I blinked my eyes open, but closed them instantly when I was met with bright light. It was almost blinding. "Ugh! Jean…" After a short moment, I heard her quietly say, "You can open your eyes now, Logan." I opened them slowly to find that the light had dimmed and Jean standing above me, "How are you feeling?"

"It's hot." There was a small breeze in the room. I looked to my left and there was a floor fan directed on me. "You overheated yourself working out. I just don't understand why your mutation didn't keep you cool."

"I don't know. I know it can control body temperature because," I paused for a moment to take a breath, "because when I went to Alkali Lake, I wore nothing but my leather jacket for warmth. I didn't get frostbite and I just felt… cool. It was well below freezing the whole time I was there." Her expression went from concern to curiosity. "If it can control your temperature in the cold, it would only make sense if your temp could be regulated in the heat, too," she said matter-of-factly. She didn't say anything for several seconds before she continued, "I wonder…" She really didn't say it to me. I think she was talking to herself. "Logan, I want to try something." She reached over to a table that was near my bed and grasped a scalpel. I instinctively tensed up. "What do you plan on doing with that?" She rested her hand softly on my shoulder, "Logan, relax. I'm just going to make a small incision on the tip of your finger." I squinted my eyes and furrowed my brow, "What for?"

"It's just a theory, but I don't want to throw you into a scare."

"I can handle it."

"Logan, I know you. You'd throw a fit if I told you." I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my irritation, "Fine, just do it." I hate being experimented on without knowing the sole purpose. She pinned my hand down by my wrist and told me to hold still. I did what she asked and she proceeded to slice a small cut into my finger. It didn't hurt; it just stung. In the end, the incision was about a half an inch long. She released her hold on me and set the scalpel back on the table. I raised my hand into my view so I could look at it. I expected the gash to close up and heal over, but didn't. Blood dripped slowly down my hand and it didn't stop. I looked at Jean, "Jean, what the hell is going on?" I exclaimed, fear starting to surface. I knew something was wrong, but I wasn't entirely sure what.

"Logan, I need you to concentrate on the cut. Just focus on that and nothing else." I focused my vision on the cut and nothing else. I clenched my jaw and gritted my teeth as I concentrated on the cut. Nothing happened; absolutely nothing. "Jean…" I said slowly, "What the hell's goin' on, Red?"

"I'm not sure Logan. I have a hunch, but I'd like to run some tests, just to be certain."

"Great; more poking and prodding." I said sarcastically. Jean gave me a warning glance, "Logan, if you want us to figure out what's going on, I suggest you cooperate. I was up all night with Adra keeping an eye on you. I think the least you can do now is cooperate with me!" _All night?_ "Where's Adra, Jean?"

"She's bunked with Selina. She sees you as her friend, you know. She told me you know about her past, and that you promised to protect her."

"Yeah. She told me a story or two. And after what she told me…I just felt pity for the girl, ya know? I had to say something." She laughed softly, "You're good at getting kids to cling to you, aren't you, Mr. Hero? First Rogue, then Jimmy, and now Adra." Jean leaned in closer to me as she placed herself on a stool, "You know what I think?"

"What?" She lowered her voice to a whisper, "I think that the tough-as-nails Wolverine has a soft spot for children."

"Shut up, Jean." She smirked at me, knowing she was right. "Let's get the cut cleaned up. If I'm right, you could get an infection easily."

"Joy," I said through my clenched teeth. After she slid on a pair of latex gloves, she grabbed a clear bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball. She poured a small amount alcohol on the cotton and applied it to the small gash in my finger. I didn't figure rubbing alcohol would sting, but it burned like hell! I jerked my hand back and exclaimed, "Jesus! What's in that?"

"Pure alcohol. And a little water. See?" She showed me the bottle and pointed some of the lettering. "99 percent alcohol. I have to use the strongest I've got to prevent infectivity. It shouldn't hurt you Logan."

"Like hell it doesn't! Burns like a mother f—" Jean cut me off with a warning glare, "Flipper?" I offered innocently. She exhaled sharply and I knew she was annoyed with me. I'm good at that. It's a gift. Curse, really.

Jean finished cleaning the cut and covered it with a cotton pad and some gauze with some antibiotic ointment. "Okay, I'd like to draw some blood so Hank and I can run some tests," she asked me after the gash was dressed. I groaned, "More needles? God, Jean. You know I hate those damn things! I've had my fair share." She looked at me with a doubtful expression. "And how do you know that?"

"Judging by my nightmares," I shuddered in mid-sentence, "needles are _not_ friendly." Jean grabbed a syringe off the table beside me and pulled cover off the needle. _How convenient. She has a needle all ready for me. _"You ready?" I turned my head so that I was staring straight up at the ceiling. I closed my eyes as I told her to do it. I shut my eyes tighter as I felt the needle dig deeper into my skin. I could literally feel the blood being pulled out of my arm. It wasn't much, but I could still feel it. She finally drew the needle out of my skin, swabbed the punctured area of my skin, and covered it with a bandage. As she pulled off her gloves, she informed me, "The test results should be collected in about 36 hours. We'll give you the results sometime tomorrow afternoon." I started to sit up but was stopped when Jean put her hand on my bare chest and laid me back down. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I don't know. Anywhere but here? This place gives me the creeps." Her lips tightened as she breathed out of her nose, probably trying to decide whether to let me loose or not. She finally spoke after several moments, "Let me check your temperature one more time and then I'll see whether you're fit to be let out," _Even if she says I'm not fit to leave, I'm gonna leave anyhow. _"I can put restraints on you, you know that right?"

"You heard that, huh?" She tapped the side of her temple twice with her finger, "Mind reader, remember?" I scowled at her, "You know I don't like that."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't make escape plans when I'm around then, hmm?" She walked over to a cabinet on the other side of the room, opened the door momentarily, closed it, and walked back over to me with a thermometer in hand. She checked it was down to zero and slipped in my mouth. She set her wrist watch, "Five minutes, okay?" I nodded my head as she walked into her office. Through her window, I saw her grab her record book and put her glasses on. She walked back over to me and sat down on the stool. She opened her record book to a page with my name printed on the top. She rested it on her lap, pulled a pen out of the pocket of her lab coat, and began making notes. We sat in silence for a few minutes before Jean spoke out of the blue, "I think Marissa's taken with you."

"I've said it before: you can tell her my heart belongs to someone else," I replied, speaking like I would if I had a cigar between my lips and teeth. Jean took off her glasses and sighed as she folded them up and placed them in her pocket, "Logan, you and I, we can't…" She paused, trying to figure out what to say, "I love Scott, and that's never going to change." Right then, her watch started beeping and she flipped the watch off before she pulled the thermometer out of my mouth. She looked at the temperature and recorded it in her book. "Ninety-nine point seven. You're good to go, Logan." I sat up, swung my legs over the edge of the bed and pushed myself over the edge with my arms. Jean had disappeared into her office and I followed behind her. I stepped in and leaned against the door frame, "Do you really love him?"

"More than anything," she replied, without looking up from her desk. I sauntered up to her and rested my large hand on her shoulder. "Jean?" She said nothing. "Jean, look at me." She still avoided looking at me or saying anything. "Jean… look at me!" I told her more forcefully. She walked over to the other side of her office and took off her lab coat. She opened the closet door with her mind and hung the coat up inside, manually. She stepped back from the closet and telepathically slammed the door shut with a loud bang. She turned and faced me, "Logan, you can't keep doing this. I love Scott and that's all there is to it." I stepped across the room and stood so close to her that our bodies almost touched. I rested my hand on her cheek, "But I love _you_, Jean." I slid my hand down her neck, her shoulder, her arm, and came to a rest on her waist. I leaned in to kiss her, but she rested her hand in the middle of my chest and gently pushed against me. "Logan, don't," she whispered. She must've known I was gonna try again because she gave me another warning, "I mean it. _Don't_." I took a step back away from her. "Okay." I turned away and began walking out of the infirmary. I took about five steps before I turned around to look at Jean. She leaned against her desk and buried her head in her hands. At first I thought she was crying, but then she motionlessly launched her record book across the room and out the door. My mouth and eyes went wide as I realized that she was throwing the book at _me_! I ducked down quickly, the book skimming the top of my hair. _Okay, I should leave now. _

As I left the infirmary, not bothering to grab my shirt as I walked out, I ran into Marissa, literally. As soon as I walked out the door, she was ready to walk _in_ the door. She stumbled backwards as she ricocheted off of me. I reached to grab her, but missed her by mere centimeters. She turned herself into adamantium just seconds before she hit the ground with a metallic clank and "Oomph!" I moved one stride toward her and extended my hand for her to take. She grasped it so tightly that it almost hurt. I went to pull her up, but she pulled me down on top of her! She wrapped her arms around me as my body took a metal form. I soon figured out why; three syringes bounced off of my now metal skin. I turned my head and Jean was standing in the doorway. I threw myself off of Metallica and grasped her hand. In our metal state, tore off down the hallway, through the elevator doors, leaving the basement.

I let go of Marissa's hand as I leaned up against the wall of the elevator to catch my breath. "Hey, thanks for saving my ass back there," I told her as my skin went back to its original state. Marissa came out of her adamantium form. "No problem."

"Did you know something's not right with me?"

"How do you mean?" I tried explaining it the best I could, "I mean, did you know that I'm ill in some way?" She shook her head no. So I asked, "Then why did you cover me?" She shrugged her shoulders, "Instinct, I suppose. I never second-guess myself. Act first, think later. That's how I survive." The elevator doors opened to the ground floor of the mansion. We kept talking as we made our way toward Professor Xavier's office, "You're like me in that way. I do the same thing; act first, think later. Gets me into trouble more often than not—"

"But when not, it's a life-saver, right?" I nodded yes. Marissa went on to ask about Jean, "What was her problem back there? She looked like she wanted to kill you! Did you cheat on her or something?"

"More like trying to get her to do the cheating. We're not together. She's with Cyclops."

"He's the one with the sunglasses, right?"

"Yeah." Marissa squinted her eyes slightly, "So what was her problem?"

"She doesn't have a problem," I defended Jean, "That wasn't the Jean I know. Something's wrong with her."

"What?" I felt defeated because I didn't have an answer. "I don't know…"


	6. Logan Goes Rogue

***The Next Afternoon, Logan's Point of View***

I was in the Danger Room with Marissa, teaching her self defense with hand-on-hand combat. I didn't exactly volunteer for it, but the professor _volunteered_ me for the job. Truth be told, I was more than obliged to. I needed a way to blow off some steam, considering Jean had _banned_ me from fight simulations in the Danger Room. She even went as far as to set a security code! I set the program to where it had the walls and floor matted down. I had on my regular gear; wife beater, blue jeans, and my boots. But I still had my finger bandaged to cover the incision Jean had given me. Marissa had on tight black gym shorts and a tight pink tank top, and she looked _good_! But I didn't let her know that. I went about the routine like I do with the students. "Take you're metal form. We'll start by seeing what you can do." Her body transformed to adamantium slowly, working the way up from her feet. I took a defensive stance and she mirrored my position. She looked as though she had no clue what to do; turns out, she didn't, "So what? Just come at you?"

"Yes." She did. She came barreling toward me like a mad rodeo bull! I just smirked, knowing full well I could take her! As soon as she got within two inches of me, I leaped over her head with a yell and kicked out behind me, landing on my hands and knees. I stood up, spun around just in time to see Metallica face-plant the floor behind me as I threw my hands out the side, popping my claws all at once. I know I was supposed to teach her hand-on-hand combat, but the adrenaline running through my veins had my claws urging to be released. I stood still, gritting my teeth and panting, waiting for her to get up. Metallica rose to her feet and took a different defensive position, her face full of determination, but her face quickly went to an expression of surprise. "Logan, you're hands!" I twisted my hands to where the back of my hands were facing up and brought them up from my sides. Blood was gushing out from the openings around my claws! I gasped and tried to pull in my claws, but instead I screamed in pain as I sank to my knees, the blood slowly dripping down my arms. Marissa ran over to me, changing back to skin as she kneeled down beside me. She attempted to grasp my wrists, trying to restrain me, but I fought back. I was in a panic. I was blind to what was going on around me. I didn't realize she was trying to help me. Every reach that she took to grab me, I jerked away from. I felt a cold touch against my skin and I found myself unable to break free. I looked down and saw a pair of silver-colored hands around my wrists. I heard Metallica's voice whisper, "Logan, Logan, listen to me. I need to you do as I say, okay?" I nodded quickly, finally finding _some_ control over my actions. "Logan, I need you to pull your claws back in. Can you do that?" I felt the muscles in my arm tighten as I struggled to pull my claws in. The first try came to no avail. Marissa talked through it, "Okay. Just take a deep breath and stay put." She stood up and ran to the door. I turned my head so I could see what she was doing. She picked up our towels and her water bottle that were lying beside the door. She ran back over and stooped down beside me, laying the objects down on the floor. "Logan, I want you to try again." Through my gasps for air, I said, "It—it hurts." I felt like I was going to pass out from the pain. "I know it does," she told me understandingly, "But I need you to bring your claws in. We have to stop the bleeding, Logan. C'mon. Try again." I did as she asked; straining my muscles and my personal will beyond my normal limits. Slowly, the metal blades slid back in to the trenches from where they came. I bit down on my tongue to keep from screaming from the agonizing, unbearable pain until I could taste the metallic flavor of blood in my mouth. When the pointed tips my claws finally disappeared, I let out the air that I had been holding in for so long. The openings didn't close up like they normally did, but remained open and bleeding. There was so much blood; it was all I could do from letting fear take over. Marissa grabbed one of the towels and wrapped it around my hand. She did the same to my other hand. I calmed down some now that I couldn't see the open wounds.

Out of nowhere, I heard the doors hiss open and Rogue and Bobby appeared at my side. Rogue immediately began asking questions about what had happened to me, but I found myself unable to answer her. Marissa began giving instructions instead, "Rogue, help me get him to his feet." Rogue grabbed my left arm and Marissa grabbed a hold of my right. It wasn't like I couldn't stand on my own, but I think I was slipping into shock. "Also, we need some ice to slow the bleeding." Bobby spoke up, "I can take care of that." Marissa and Rogue began removing the towels covering my hands slowly. I grimaced from the pain, but kept totally silent. Bobby moved to where he was standing in front of me. "Logan, I'm gonna make your hands a little cold, but don't move and you'll be fine." I nodded, "Fine. Just do something to make it stop!" I was desperate for relief. I have never felt this much pain—never, ever this much pain. Compared to the pain I was experiencing, being clawed at by Sabretooth was like being pricked with a needle. The closest thing that I have felt that even deserves to be compared to this is when Magneto uses his magnetism on me. Bobby's fingertips hovered just above the open wounds and I felt an instant chill. A small, faint layer of frost covered the gashes. I relaxed a little when I felt a small amount of relief. Marissa instructed the two teens to take me to the infirmary. I didn't resist when they led me out of the Danger Room toward the elevator. My energy…it felt like I had none. I didn't like the idea of going back to the infirmary, but the feeling of Rogue's gloved hands on my arm relaxed me. The feeling was familiar, as was her scent. It was like having family right by my side.

I didn't see Jean when we walked through the automatic doors of the med lab. I was sort of grateful for that. If she _had_ been there, she probably would have exploded on me. (Yes, even through the pain, I was thinkin' about Jean.) Hank walked out of his office beside Jean's and immediately looked surprised. "Oh, dear. What's happened now, Wolverine?" I blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out how to explain it. I finally came up with, "My claws. The openings didn't heal over." By now, the pain had started to subside, but not by much. Hank slowly removed the makeshift bandages from my hands. His eyes widened as soon as he saw the injuries, "Oh my stars and garters. You'll have to have stitches, Logan." I argued with him, "Hell no! I've had enough needles! No more, damn it!" _I'm acting afraid? Of needles? _I've never been afraid of anything. Wait, I take that back. I've been afraid; I've just never shown it… until now. Hank tried to get through to me with his words, "Logan, calm down. It won't be as bad as you think." I lost control. My feral side took over of my mind and body. The _real_ Wolverine had made its way to the surface. Hank and Rogue tried to grab my arms to lead me to an examination table. But I still struggled. I was too much for Rogue to handle. She lost her grip on my arm and fell to the floor with a thud, but Hank still held strong. I close my eyes and resisted with what little strength I had left. Hank now had his arms wrapped around my arms and chest, restraining me. I had to fight to keep my claws from making themselves known. But it wasn't because I didn't want to hurt someone. My survival instincts kicked in; I was waiting for a better opening for an attack. My only thought—my only goal—was to make an escape…

***Hank McCoy's (Beast's) Point of View***

I wrapped my arms around Logan's flailing arms from behind and folded them across his chest, though he still struggled for his freedom. I held on to him. It was a matter of life or death at this point for him. He looked as though he had lost a lot of blood. As well as the fact if he keeps struggling, he could injure himself further. I had taken a glance at the test results from Logan's blood sample. Something had triggered the neutralization of his mutation—particularly his accelerated healing ability. And from Logan's current actions, it would seem it has generated his feral side as well.

I immediately knew I had to sedate Logan. That was the only way to gain control over him. I bellowed out to Rogue for her to grab a vile of sedatives from the supply cabinet on the other side of the room. "Which one, Hank?"

"Any of them! And grab a syringe!" With the distraction, Logan almost freed himself. Self-defense began to come to mind. I kicked his legs out from underneath him and he hit the floor with a grunt and a thud. I then placed my knee in the middle of his back while holding his hands behind his back, the way a law enforcement officer would restrain a resisting assailant. But I still took care as not to injure him further or cause him any additional pain. Rogue ran over and kneeled down beside us. I instructed her on how to put the tranquilizer in the syringe. She followed each of my instructions to the letter. She acted hesitant when I told her to insert the needle point into Logan's arm, but the young girl pulled through. He jolted slightly when the needle penetrated his skin, but he held still for the most part. I stayed kneeling on Logan's back for a few short moments until I felt him relax and his breathing slowed. I knew then that the tranquilizer had taken effect. I removed myself from Logan's back and released his hands. He groaned as I did so, an obvious sign of relief to be released. I helped him to his feet, but he was rather unsteady. He leaned against me, having clear trouble keeping stable. With the help of young Bobby Drake, we managed to get him to the examination table, which was a rather troublesome ten steps. Logan flopped down on the table rather clumsily. Rogue stood on the other side of the table, tenderly placing a gloved hand on his cheek as she said with her sweet southern drawl, "What are we gonna do with you, Logan?" I walked to the supply cupboard to gather the supplies to stitch Logan's hands up; threads, a needle, sterilization wipes. I moved back over and placed the equipment on the small table beside the bed. I sterilized Logan's left hand and began stitching. Rogue looked up for an instant and quickly averted her eyes to Logan's calm face. I knew she had trouble looking at her closest friend in this state. It was troublesome for me as well.

I just completed stitching the middle opening on Logan's left hand when Miss Carrington walked in. "Hey, Hank. Alright to come in?"

"Certainly, if you don't mind watching Logan being stitched up." She stood at the foot of the examination table, looking sadly at her fallen savior. I looked at her understandingly, "If it troubles you, you can leave. I will let you know when I have finished." She shook her head no before she quietly spoke, "I feel like I'm the one who did this." Bobby consoled the young woman, "You didn't do this to him. I talked to Jean. Something about chemicals from the attack on the World Trade Center. The jets… they emitted some kind of harmful radiation. It triggered a suppression in part of his mutation. It's a wonder that the students he picked up weren't affected." Marissa did not look convinced. Bobby placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, "Hey, he'll get better. He's the Wolverine. Nothin' can take him down." She smiled softly, "Okay. I'm gonna go…cope." Bobby looked at her funny, "How are you gonna do that?"

"I'm gonna go raid the refrigerator. Wanna come with?" Bobby shrugged as he accepted her invitation. As they walked out the automatic doors, I heard Bobby say, "Hey and while we're at it, I'll introduce you to Colossus."

"Sounds good."

***Marissa's Point of View***

I walked silently beside Bobby to the kitchen. As soon as we got there, I opened the fridge, looking for some booze to calm my nerves. "You got any beer?" Bobby laughed, "No."

"Do you have anything besides apple juice?"

"There's soda in that cupboard up there." I walked to the cabinet that he pointed out and pulled out a glass bottle of Coca-Cola. The bottle hissed quietly when I twisted the cap off. I looked down at the bottle and handed it to Bobby. As he grasped it, his hand turned a pale blue. A small sheet of ice coated the bottle as it chilled. He handed the bottle back to me as I gave him a small thanks. I took a few swigs from the bottle before taking a seat on the stool across the island from Bobby. I looked at the bottle, "Budweiser would be better." Bobby propped his elbow on the table and rested his head on his fist, "I wouldn't peg you as a beer drinker." I looked at him, going with the conversation, "Really? May I ask why?"

"You just don't strike me as that kind of girl—woman!" he corrected himself quickly. "Sorry. But like I was saying, just the way you look. You look more like a wine-taster, scotch-shooter kinda woman." I looked at him curiously, "What kind of person would you peg as a beer-chugger?" He thought for a moment, "Big, brawly guys. The kind that you don't wanna mess with. The kind that'll kill ya if you get on their bad side. Ya know, like Logan." I laughed. It took less than a second before Bobby was laughing with me. When our laughter stopped, our smiling didn't. "I like you, kid. You're good company."

"Tell that to Logan. He's not too fond of me. But the feeling's mutual." This conversation was definitely going places. "Why doesn't Logan like you?"

"Rogue."

"What about her?"

"She's my girlfriend. But I think I know why. It's just a theory, mind you." He broke off there. I urged him for more information, "Well? What is it?"

"I think he thinks I'll leave her because we can't touch. You know, skin-on-skin." He sighed, "I get why he thinks that. He sees her like a daughter. He claims he doesn't, but everyone can see that he's pretty much her personal bodyguard. He's even more protective of her since the incident with Magneto last year."

"Logan and the professor told me about it. Sounds like it was a pretty bad deal."

"It was. Everybody was worked up over it. We almost lost Logan. We almost lost the professor." His voice went so quiet that he was barely audible, "We almost lost Rogue." We sat in silence. I almost felt a connection with Bobby. "I understand, Bobby. I almost killed Logan the other night and he's been in the infirmary left and right since I got here. I still feel like it's my fault." Bobby scolded me, "Hey. It isn't your fault that Al Qaeda attacked us." We sat in quiet for a long while before someone came in the kitchen. I turned around to see who it was. It was a teenage boy, about seventeen. He was tall, probably about six and a half feet. He was definitely taller than Logan. He had dark brown hair and brown eyes. Bobby stood up, "Marissa, this is Peter Ras—Ras…. Pete, help me out!" Peter extended his hand for me to shake, "Rasputin. Peter Rasputin. Call me Pete, Peter, or Colossus. It doesn't really matter to me." _Why does his name sound familiar?_ "You said your name was 'Rasputin', right?"

"Yeah. It's Russian. My ancestors came from Russia. Why?" I gazed away from him, "That was _my _name at one time. Marissa Rasputin. My parents were part Russian," I whispered, "I changed my name after I ran away." Peter's eyes went wide. "I had a sister named Marissa."

"Really? What happened to her?"

"I never met her. My parents told me she took off when she was 15. Just like I did. I've been at this school for two years. I took off when my parents found out I was a mutant." His skin turned to solid metal. _All this sounds so familiar! _"What are your parents' names?"

"Jeremy and Grace Rasputin." _Oh…my…God._ "Oh…my…God." Peter had the same reaction. "You're my sister…"


	7. Church Pew or Barstool

***The Next Day, Logan's Point of View***

"It's confirmed, Marissa. You and Peter are brother and sister. The DNA tests are 98 percent accurate," Jean explained. Pete and Marissa had come in late yesterday afternoon, wanting a DNA test done on them. But when they got the results, they didn't say a word to each other. There was definitely tension between them; or maybe awkwardness. Anyway, since they didn't want to talk, I spoke for them. "It may just be me, but I have a hard time believing Tin Man and Metallica are brother and sister. They don't look anything alike!"

"Logan, brothers and sisters don't necessarily have to look alike. There are all sorts of genetic factors that are involved in the resemblance of offspring. There's the X and Y gene from the father and the two X genes from the mother—"

"Spare me. I've been cooped up in here for two days. My brain can't take it." Jean looked at me, annoyed. I just shut up. I didn't want a repeat of the episode we had the other day. "Anyway," she said slowly, "you two are undoubtedly siblings. Pete, when was the last time you had contact with your parents?"

"Last Christmas, I think? I went home, but they kicked me to the curb, _again_." Jean made the suggestion that they get in touch with their parents and let them know that Marissa was alive and well. Judging by Marissa's reaction, she didn't like that idea. She began to rant and rave, yelling to no one in particular, "There's no way I'm going back to that hell hole! I ran away from them for a reason! They treated me like a—like a…" She stopped abruptly. "Mutant?" I suggested. She glared at me with murder in her eyes, "A monster. A freak of nature." A single tear slid from her eye, "I gotta go." She ran out of Jean's office. Peter looked emotionless. His face was just blank. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to change his mind. He, too, left Jean's office, leaving Jean and I alone. After what seemed like an eternal moment of silence, Jean said, "Logan, will you go down to the med lab with me? I need to run some tests on you. I need to gather more data on the radiation."

"Sounds good," I mumbled. I walked along side her down to the basement. It was quiet for the most part. Then out of nowhere, I hear Jean say she's sorry. We stepped into the elevator and continue the conversation. "For what?"

"For attacking you."

"Ah, it's alright. Besides, I had it coming." She smiled as the elevator doors slid open as we stopped at the basement. We walked out of the elevator, down the blue-grey corridor, and into the lab. The med lab has an MRI, x-ray, and a bunch of other fancy medical equipment. The infirmary has your standard medicinal supplies; syringes, surgical equipment—which I still find a little unnerving—, medicines of all kinds, and some more basic materials. Jean had me sit down on one of the examination tables. "I need to remove your clothes, Logan. I need to run some tests on you and your clothes to find out how serious this radiation is." I started to unbutton my flannel shirt, but Jean stopped me abruptly, "No! Logan, you could compromise evidence!" I lowered my hands from the top button slowly, resting my hands in my lap. She started unbuttoned my shirt then moved around behind me, pulling the shirt down off my shoulders. She laid the shirt down beside me before moving back in front of me. "Raise your arms up." I did as she asked before she slid my wife beater over my head and laying it on top of my flannel shirt. "Stand up."

"What?"

"I need to take off your pants." _Oh, this isn't good._ Mentally, I looked up and said, _God, I know you test me, and you do that a lot, but isn't this going a little too far?_

I took a long, deep breath as I slid off the table, trying to fight off the… exciting situation I was in. I started playing scenarios in my head. Me and Scott trying to kill each other and me kicking his ass. Me kicking Sabretooth's ass. Thinking of anything but Jean as she slid my belt out of the loops in my jeans. Jean had undid my jeans and pulled them off of me. I sat on the examination table as Jean took my pile of clothes and put them in a container on the other side of the room. And _Rogue_ walks in. And I'm in my underwear! She looked at me kind of wide-eyed and said, "Are we doing experiments on Logan? 'Cause I'd like to help." Jean came up and wheeled me into the room with the MRI, "No, Rogue. You can't help. I got this. But thanks."

"No fair. You get to have all the fun." I scowled slightly, "Make fun of the naked guy. Knock yourself out," I said sarcastically. Right then, Scott stepped through the door, but stopped in his tracks when he saw me in my underwear. "There'd better not be mistletoe in here, Logan!" I scoffed, "Please. I don't need mistletoe as an excuse to kiss her." He scowled at me, "Logan, remember. Your healing factor is gone. And I could send you flying through the wall with a slow and painful recovery period to go with it." _Ass-wipe is trying to_ scare_ me._ "You don't scare me, Boy Scout." I heard Jean's voice echo through my head, _Hey! Knock it off! I mean it!_ I just stopped talking. Again, I didn't want a repeat of the other day…

We got through the tests. Jean told me the radiation wasn't enough to be contagious. It just attacked my one mutation. Jean didn't know why and Hank said the same thing. But I guess that's not important. The thing that matters is that this problem fixes itself.

Jean wasn't done with me until about 7 o'clock. So after I got dressed, I headed to the garage, fired up Scott's motorcycle and almost made it to the driveway before Scott caught me. "Where are you going?" I killed the engine and glared at him, "What difference does it make?"

"It's _my_ motorcycle. I think I have a right to know where it's going." I rolled my eyes, "If you really need to know, I'm going to the Canuck Tavern for a drink. With my luck, I'll come back plastered." Scott shook his head back and forth, "If that's your plan, maybe someone ought to go with you. You may not survive being a drunk." I shrugged my shoulders, "I drink all the time and don't come out with a hangover. Why should this time be any different?"

"You're healing factor is gone, and I think that's what keeps you sober," he said like a know-it-all he is. "Whatever," I told him, "Tag along then. I don't care." He smirked slightly and grabbed a different set of keys out of his pocket as he walked over to his blue Mazda RX-8. I steered his motorcycle back to its original spot. As I was walking to the car, Marissa came through the door. I invited her to have a drink with us and she climbed in the back seat in response. I told Cyclops, "I'm driving," and snatched the keys from his fingers before he answered. I climbed in driver's seat and slammed my door shut in unison with the other two. I stuck the key in the ignition, gunned the motor with the tires squealing in response. Two separate seatbelt clicks answered to the squeal. I smiled to myself hoping to make Scott piss himself. I made the tires squeal again as I turned onto the highway, making Scott grasp the dashboard and say, "Logan, easy on the tires! I just got them replaced!" The gears grinded as I shifted before speeding up. I went about 75 miles an hour—maybe more—for about five minutes before I decided to slow to 60. I clicked the headlights on and kind of relaxed into the seat. I enjoy driving. It's one of the few things that I _do_ enjoy that doesn't make me break something. Scott decided to start up a conversation by asking me where this bar was. I answered, "About 10 miles from the school, opposite of New York City." We sat in silence for a few minutes, with nothing but the engine running, which I didn't mind, but I think Marissa was bothered by it because she tried to strike up conversation by commenting that she thought that I was a good driver. Surprisingly, Scott agreed—I think. He said, "Yeah, it's one of his few quirks that doesn't make you want to, you know, kill him." I turned my head toward him for a second, watching the road out of the corner of my eye as I glared at Scott. I heard Marissa say, "Logan, that was a compliment to you. Now can you please watch the road? I don't like it when people drive with there peripheral vision!" I turned my head back forward, the car falling into a dead silence.

Five minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot which was pretty full considering it's Friday night and nearly 7:30. We got out of the car and stepped through the saloon-style doors. The smell of cigars and alcohol lingered in the air thick with cigar/cigarette smoke. Marissa stepped close to me and I could tell she didn't want to be here, but she still had a brave face on. We walked over to the bar and slid onto separate stools, all that had tears in the leather of the seat. The bartender came up to me with an open Molson bottle. It was Harry Solomon (A/N: He looks like French Stewart and acts like Harry Solomon on "3rd Rock From the Sun". Look it up on Youtube.), and he knows me pretty well since I'm a regular. "Hello, Logan. What's new?" I shrugged as I picked the bottle up, "Well," I waved my hand toward me, signaling him to lean across the bar, "My mutation's gone."

"Ooh. Which one?"

"Healing." He leaned back to his side of the bar, "How'd that happen?"

"Those attacks on the Twin Towers?" Harry nodded. "I was there. Some radiation got to me." I took a long swig of my Molson. "Ahh," I sighed, "I'm gonna need something stronger." He pulled out a bottle of Crown Royal Canadian whiskey with a shot glass, "Who's your friends?" nodding toward Marissa and Scott. I told them who they were and Harry asked if Marissa was my girlfriend. We both laughed and said no. "Don't get me wrong, she's a good person, but I hardly know her." He looked upward with his normal squinty eyes, "Ah, women. You can't live with them and yet they're everywhere." Marissa sat on my right, "Gee, thanks, Harry. I can say the same about men, you know. And do you know what else?" He looked at her curiously, "What?"

"You say you can't live with them, right? Well, you can't have heterosexual sex without them either." He nodded once, "That's probably true." I laughed out loud, "I knew you two would get along." Harry got distracted toward me, "Did you save anybody?" I kept my eyes down on my bottle of beer, "Yeah, but I wish that I didn't need to save anybody. It shouldn't have happened." I think Harry's got ADD because he asked Marissa if she can mix drinks. She shrugged, "Maybe. I'm not really a bartender though. But let me give it a shot." She walked behind the counter as Harry told her to mix up a Tequila Sunrise. She did it surprisingly quick. She poured it in a glass and took a sip, "Came out all right." Harry started mixing up his own drink and said, "I can mix drinks with my eyes closed." I looked up from my beer, "You do _everything_ with your eyes closed."

"I _squint_, for the umpteenth time!" He continued mixing the cocktail while I rolled my eyes at him, "Well, since I'm suppressed, I won't be going on any missions for a while." I turned around to see if Scott was with us, but he'd disappeared to somewhere. Marissa came and sat back down beside me as Harry finished the drink and leaned on the counter between me and Marissa, "You know Logan, you're looking on the downside of this. No missions mean no work."

"Whatever."

"You know Logan, when life gives you lemons, just shut up and eat the damn lemons!" Marissa glanced at him confused, "Don't you mean 'when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade'?" From there on, I was pretty much out of the conversation—I just made sure Harry kept the drinks comin'. About thirty minutes later, Marissa turned her attention back to me, but my attention was on the new longneck in front of me. "Logan, when did you lose your virginity?" My eyes opened wide, taken aback. "Uh…I…um…I don't quite—never mind," I stuttered. "You don't what? Like to talk about it?" she pressed. I exhaled sharply, "I don't remember. Amnesia, remember?" Her voice lowered, "Right. I remember losing mine. I was 16, working as a prostitute." She must've caught my glance because she said, "Don't judge me. I needed the money, badly." She closed her eyes like she was reminiscing, and then told us, "He was 18 years old—my first client— and had terminal cancer. He didn't want to die a virgin. I felt bad for him, so I gave him half my rate. I made thirty bucks off him…He died 2 weeks later." She downed another shot of whiskey and cringed at the burn. I followed with her, drinking a shot. Harry quickly refilled the glasses as he said, "I'll never forget the time I lost my virginity to ol'…what's-her-name over at…the place." He sighed dramatically, "Magic."

"You are so weird," I told him as I brought the bottle to my lips. Harry asked, "What about you, Logan?"

"What about me?" Marissa said, "What's your between-the-sheets life like?"

"_Was_ like. Haven't had a real sex life since I came here last year. Before that, it was prostitutes mainly." Marissa's expression saddened, which I understand. She half-whispered, "That's pretty sad, Logan. Both of us resorting to prostitution." She paused to have another shot before asking, "Why?" I shrugged, "I'm a man. I had needs—and I never stayed in one place long enough to be in a real relationship."

"Let me guess—it was cheap motels most of the time right?"

"My truck—I had a camper in the back." I paused for a long while before picking up where I left off, "I _was_ in love at one time." Marissa and Harry both came closer to me, full of interest. They didn't have to tell me that I had to tell them. "1986, on the run. I stopped at an Indian reservation near Ontario and the head-honcho or chief or whatever offered to put me up for a while. I accepted and wound up staying for about a week. Well, I met this woman while I was there, 'Little Fawn'—I just called her 'Fawn'. Anyway, we became really close. Well, eventually, I had to leave, but she convinced me to stay. I stayed for _six months_. In that time, we fell in love. Eventually, the chief—her _father_—found out and he wasn't happy with it. He gave me 24 hours to leave. That night," I closed my eyes, remembering that night, "she came into my tent, saying she wanted to make love to me before I left. I told her that I wasn't experienced, that I wouldn't be good. Truth was I was scared. But she told me she was inexperienced too, so I gave in. We made love and I was glad we did until…" I stopped, hesitant to continue, but Harry presses him, "Until…?" I opened my eyes and looked at Harry, "Until I found out she was 16 years old!" Marissa looked shocked and Harry's eyes went as wide as they would go, which looked more like he was raising his eyebrows. Marissa practically shouted, "You didn't know how old she was?"

"Keep it down. I'm not deaf! And she told me she was 20! I believed her. She definitely looked it." Marissa gazed at me sympathetically. "I bet you were angry with her."

"Yeah, but…I still loved her. She knew I was angry, so she left without another word. The next morning, I left and never saw her again." Just then, the upbeat country song in the background changed to something slow and steady. Marissa listened for a minute before saying, "I love this song." Then she asked me to dance. My judgment was fuzzy from the alcohol, so I said yes—which surprised Harry. I let her take my hand and lead me out on the floor. I held her hand in my right and wrapped my left arm around her waist while she rested her arm around my neck and shoulder. I pulled her close since the floor was sort of crowded. We swayed to the beat of the music for a bit before I asked her what the song was. She told me it was "We Danced" by Brad Paisley. I didn't think at all out on the floor. I just laid my head on top of hers that was rested on my chest. I breathed in her scent. She smelled like shampoo—nothing fruity or floral, just neutral. I closed my eyes, slowly rocking with the rhythm. It felt like there was nobody there but us and the melody. That maybe the alcohol talking, but either way... it was definitely relaxing…

***Scott's Point of View* **

I came back from the bathroom and found Logan and Marissa gone. The bartender—I call him Squinty—told me they went for a dance. I knew right then Logan was drunk. He _doesn't_ dance—at least I don't think so. But when I heard the slow tune, I thought, "Maybe, but not fast-paced." I looked around and spotted them in the middle of the floor. They looked like they were pretty content, so I decided to let them have some time together. Who knows—Logan may actually enjoy some female company, you know, other than Jean's.

About an hour after their dance, Logan and Marissa were drunk. Wait—that's an understatement. They were so wasted they could make the village drunk look like a sober Christian. It took a bit of influencing—and the help of Harry the bartender—but we finally got them to the car. I thanked Harry and quickly pulled out onto the highway, headed for home. The ride was nearly hell. Logan kept trying to drive, Marissa kept trying to climb up front to sit on Logan's lap…it was just a pain in the you-know-what.

Finally we made it back to the mansion. I had to help Marissa up to her room because she couldn't hardly stand her own. I managed to get her to her room without dragging attention to us, but Logan was a whole other ballgame. He didn't want to go up to his room, but wanted to stay with Marissa instead. I didn't really think that was a good idea. Eventually, Logan gave in. Thank God he's not a violent drunk. When we got to Logan's room, he pulled me inside, but not on purpose. He had his arm wrapped around my shoulder and he nearly fell to the floor and almost took me with him. But I caught him, barely. I put him to bed and left him to sleep. I then went to bed, needing the rest to prepare for the double dose of hangovers in the morning…


	8. Crap Happens When You Pick the Barstool

***The Next Morning, Marissa's Point of View***

I was wrenched out of a deep, dreamless sleep by the early morning sunlight streaming through the window. I blinked my eyes open, only to jerk them back shut at the blinding daylight. I tried again, this time letting my eyes adjust. I was about to crawl out of bed, coming to a stop when I realized I was naked. I heard a soft snore come from alongside me. I rolled over to find a shirtless—and possibly naked—man with an all-too-familiar haircut. It was…Logan. With the realization, I sat up like a shot from a gun, clutching the sheets close to my chest, instantly regretting sitting up so fast. My head began to throb as a feeling of dizziness waved over me. I closed my eyes to let the spell pass. I looked at Logan again, whispering to myself, "Oh no" over and over again. I closed my eyes tight for what seemed like forever before opening them in hopes of him not being there. No such luck.

There were two things I could do: 1) Wake him up and figure out how the hell we got here, and 2) sneak out of the room and hope that he wouldn't hear me. Maybe he's deaf when he sleeps.

I went with option #1. I shook him by the shoulder, "Logan. Logan, wake up." He mumbled a bit, but stayed asleep. I shook him a little harder and spoke a little louder in a second attempt. He rolled over on his back this time and opened his eyes slowly. He had a similar reaction to mine when the light got him. He draped his arm over his eyes, whispered, "Shit." I waited a few moments to ask the awkward question, "Logan," I said slowly, "are you naked?"

"As a jaybird," he answered without removing his arm from his eyes. I lay back down beside him. I stared up at the ceiling, not daring to look him in the eye. "Logan, do you remember anything…about last night?" He exhaled sharply, "The last thing I remember is," he closed his eyes for a moment, "Scott taking us our rooms. The rest is a blur." I thought for a minute, "I think I came into your room." _Okay, that was dumb. We _are_ in his room. _All Logan said was, "Mm-hmm."

***Logan's Point of View***

I sat up in bed, making sure the sheet covered me up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Marissa did the same, but beside me. I asked, "Where do you want to go from here?"

"Well, I should probably take a pregnancy test." I nodded, "Right. But can we not talk about that until we're sure whether or not you're pregnant?" She nodded. "We'd better get dressed now Logan. It's almost 9:30." We got dressed really quick, trying to not look at each other. Marissa left as soon as she was dressed. I went to the kitchen to get some breakfast. The professor rolled into the kitchen. "Good morning, Logan." I barely looked his way, "Hey, Professor." I pulled the orange juice out of the refrigerator and asked the professor if he wanted some. He said yes, and I poured two glasses, absentmindedly. The professor said my name four or five times before I realized the glass was over-flowing. The professor wheeled over with a roll of paper towels. I snatched the paper towels out of the professor's hands and cleaned up the mess._ I_ was a mess, and the professor could tell. He looked at me with concern, "Logan, is everything all right?"

"Yeah. Why?" The professor looked at me skeptically, "You seem preoccupied. Things like this don't normally happen with you, Logan. Are you _sure _everything is okay?" Just then _Scott_ walked in with a really stupid grin on his face, "Hey, Logan. How'd you sleep?" he asked me in a sing-song voice. I looked at him funny and answered him in the same tone, "Fine. How 'bout you?" He hit me in the arm, "Funny guy, acting like nothing happened last night." _Great._ I started lying to him. It's a good thing he's not psychic. But the professor is… "Nothing did."

"Bullshit. I heard you two bumping uglies last night!" I felt the red rising to my face. I gripped his arm as tight as I could—my knuckles turning white—and dragged him out of the kitchen. Boy Scout started trying to loosen my grip, but it didn't do a damn bit of good, "Ow! Logan! Loosen your grip some!" I shoved him against the wall, and I was _fuming_! I got my face so close to his I could smell his breath and see his eyes through his crimson visor. I kept my voice to a whispering yell, "How the hell could you have heard me and Marissa? You're room is two doors down from ours!"

"I came to make sure you had made it to bed all right, and I heard… noises. I never figured she would be so loud! You either, Logan."

"Shut up, Summers! Just _shut up_! What goes on in my sex life—"

"Now that you have one."

"—is my business! It's not yours, Xavier's, or anybody else's! I'm really under pressure right now and so is Marissa. We really don't need you talking about last night—in front of the professor of all people! You better not say anything to Jean, either!" He tightened his lips like he was trying to hold back a smile, "You son of a bitch! You already told her didn't you?" I spat in his face. I shoved him higher against the wall, "Didn't you?" He brought his hands up like he was surrendering, "Actually, she read my mind. I couldn't bring myself to go into detail. And Logan, you gotta calm down. You gotta admit, something like that is hard to keep to yourself." I let go of his shirt and slid my middle claw out for two reasons—one to flip him off, and two… I sliced a mark into his arm just below his shoulder and he grasped the cut. He yelled in pain, "What the hell was that for?"

"Don't play dumb. I know it's hard, but try!"

***One Month Later, middle of October***

I was out in the shop trying to repair Scott's Toyota Camry, which has got to be the shitiest car on the planet, I swear. Unbelievably, he couldn't find anything wrong with it. I don't know how it got damaged, but I'm thinking some of the kids were involved. Anyhow, I was fixing the car because that's what I do around here. It's part of my job. Something breaks, I fix it. I'm the handyman I guess. That, and Beamer Brain couldn't tell the difference between a monkey wrench and a socket wrench. At least, that's what I tell him. In truth, he's probably the only one here that knows as much about vehicles as I do.

I was lying on my back underneath the car, trying to find the source of a really bad oil leak. When I say "bad", I mean Exxon _Valdez_ bad! After about 20 minutes and probably looking over the problem and the entire underside of the car five times, I found the problem; a really, _really_ loose oil cap and a well-hidden busted line. I started feeling around trying to find my wrench, and eventually found it in my pants pocket. I adjusted the wrench adjoining the cap and started tightening it when a voice caught me off-guard, "'Bout got it fixed?" I shot my head upward to see who it was, but I sort of forgot I was underneath the car. I heard a loud clang as my adamantium skull collided with the underside of the Camry. I groaned in pain as I lowered my head and rolled out from beneath the car. Scott was standing a few feet from the car with a cringing expression, "You all right?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. That actually hurt," I said, rubbing the spot on my forehead that I hit. I brought my hand down and it had blood on it. I looked at Scott and his expression changed. His eyebrows were raised really high and his jaw was hanging open. He looked like he was amazed at something, or just stupid, "What's wrong with you? It's just blood." He shook his head quickly and grabbed a loose hubcap out of a scrap metal barrel. He held it up in front of my face. I looked at my reflection. I thought he wanted me to see how bad the gash was, but there wasn't one _to be_ seen! I smiled like and idiot, looked at Scott and practically yelled, "I'm back!" I shot to my feet and unsheathed my claws experimentally. The openings closed quickly. Just to make sure I wasn't dreaming, I made a quick swipe across my arm and watch as the slices repaired themselves. "I'm back in action, Boy Scout." I walked out of the shop and made way to Storm's classroom, which was more like a greenhouse. I walked— okay; more like ran— through the door. I walked straight to the front of the room, "Hey, Storm. Is the Danger Room open this afternoon?" She kind of looked off to the side, "Logan," she lowered her voice, "I'm in the middle of a class right now. Can't it wait?"

"I'd rather it didn't." I was still ecstatic, but I had calmed down some. Storm looked at me very seriously, almost so seriously that I thought she was going to be sarcastic, and said, "Logan, have you been smoking something _other_ than your cigars?" I can't make up my mind on whether she was being sarcastic or not. "No, I haven't. I'm back. The suppression is gone." I made the same demonstration I did back in the shop. Storm knew then why I was so nuts; which is good because I don't think I would've been able to explain anything else to her. I left Storm and her class and headed toward the Danger Room.

It had been a month since I had been able to do any simulations and I missed the violence. I changed the settings to a basic training program for the students. It had your basic dodging equipment: giant metal hammers swinging back and forth, fully-automatic machine guns that follow your movements, and some barriers that rise up out of the floor. I walked out of the control room and into the simulation area. "Beg—" I stopped when I heard the hydraulics of the doors as they opened. I turned and saw Marissa in the doorway. She had on a tight black tank top and a loose pair of shorts. She smiled at me, "Sorry. I didn't realize it was occupied. I can come back when you're done."

"Or you can sit in the control room and watch."

"Going solo?" I nodded, "Yeah." She walked over to me and stopped a few inches away from me. "I take it you're doing better?"

"How can you tell?"

"You're in the Danger Room, which means the suppression is gone; or you're going against Jean's ban." I half smiled at her, "You know me pretty well for only knowing me

a month."

***Marissa's Point of View* **

"You know me pretty well for only knowing me for a month." I replied to his remark, "I think I should know a little about the guy who saved my life—"

"—and almost killed you." His expression changed. He loosed like he was remembering the night he almost killed me—and I him. It was either that, or what he did to Rogue. I didn't ask him, though. I didn't want to hit a nerve or set him off. I heard him mumble something under his breath. I'm not sure, but it sounded like he said "déjà vu". Just then, Scott walked in. "Hey. Just came to check on you." He looked up at Scott, "I'm fine. Just about to start a simulation." I told Logan I would just come back when he was done. "I don't want to be a distraction." I left Logan to his training and headed for the kitchen. I stopped just outside the doors where the guys couldn't see me. I heard Scott say, "Logan, if I wasn't with Jean, I'd be all over that." I heard Logan reply, "Cyclops, if you're all over that, pepper spray is involved." I smiled to myself and waited for Scott to come out. We walked upstairs to the kitchen. I grabbed a couple of bottles of Dr. Pepper out of the fridge and sat down on a bar stool beside the island across from Scott. I slid one bottle across the counter top to him. I twisted the cap off and took a long chug of the soda. I swallowed it and set the bottle on the counter. We sat in a long silence, and then I asked, "Why is Logan always so pissy?" I think it was a legitimate question to ask about the guy who saved my life. Besides, Logan was nowhere near us, so I figured it was safe to ask. Scott answered, "Honestly, no one knows the real answer. _I_ think maybe he's got an excess amount of testosterone and anger-management problems, but that's just me. The professor thinks it's because he has no recollection of his past and that he's just naturally aggressive."

"Hmm. I think they're all possible answers."

"Word of advice about Logan—there's certain questions no one—I mean_ no one_—should ask, or he _will_ get pissed."

"Okay, what are they?" (A/N: I give full credit of the questions to insertsnarkhere from ) He counted the questions on his fingers as he went, "'What's up with the hair?', 'Could you pick something up from the store for me?', 'I really need to talk to someone. Do you have a moment?'; 'Couldn't you at least be a little nice to Scott?'. I got punched in the jaw after Jean asked him that one. Last and the most important, 'What's the deal with hockey?' He went into a 3 hour rant after Peter asked him that. Three hours is the norm, and that's when he's in a _good _mood!" I exhaled heavily, "Okay. No hockey, no hair, no Scott. I think I can handle that." Out of the blue, an explosion was heard—followed by alarms blaring; wailing on and off in a quick pattern. Scott immediately jumped off of his seat and tore out the door as I followed inches behind him. I followed him down the stairs, nearly tripping over my own feet as we took the stairs two—sometimes three—at a time. We ran into Hank's private laboratory, bursting through the door. "Hank, what happened?" Scott bellowed. Hank was standing in the middle of the room with his fur singed, holes scorched in his shirt, lab coat, and pants, and glass shattered on the floor around him. He patted out a small flame on his arm as he said, "A minor mishap with the mercury perchlorate hydrate. Nothing serious, Scott." I asked Hank if he was all right. He replied, "Other than charred fur, no injuries." I heard footsteps approaching fast, like someone was running. I heard a voice say seconds later, "Did I hear an attack alarm, or would that be hopin' for too much?" Scott and I turned to find Logan standing in the doorway, panting and his skin shiny with sweat. I explained what happened, minus the big words Hank had used. Logan looked almost disappointed when he found out we weren't under attack…

***Logan's Point of View***

I was a little disappointed to learn we weren't being attacked, but oh well. I turned to leave the lab and little did I know, Jimmy (the boy from 9/11) had followed me downstairs. "Logan? What happened?" Jimmy moved to stand beside me, looked at Hank, and started to back away, "Wha—what's that?" I put my hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, "Take it easy, kiddo. That's Dr. McCoy.


	9. His Name is Stryker

***Logan's Point of View***

I had fun through the rest of October. Kids didn't, but I sure as hell did! Professor Xavier let me train a group of the older students with battle exercises. Downside: I had to work with Scott. We were doing an exercise fighting these big robots we called "sentinels". I had Selina (the Russian girl from 9/11) teleport me on top of the sentinel and then had her port out. Jean decided to help that day for some reason. She knew what I was thinking, told me, "Don't even think about it." I grasped Selina's hand and said, "Never do!" before porting on top of the robot, slicing its head off. I clutched to the metal of the sentinel's body as it fell. After it crashed, I stood up on it. "Class dismissed," I said while eyeing Jean. The computer's mechanical voice said "simulation complete" as we walked out the doors. The Danger Room turned back into the plain metal walls and floor. We headed down the hall, toward the elevator. I figured Jean would dig into me. Her fearless-leader-boyfriend did it for her. "Logan, you can't just change the rules like that! We're supposed to be teaching these kids how to defend themselves." I shrugged, "The best defense is a good offense. Or do I have that backwards?" Scott opened his mouth to say something, and then changed his mind. I don't know why, but getting under his skin satisfies me.

Speaking of his skin…

***Earlier That Morning***

I was sitting in the kitchen, drinking a cup of hot black coffee, when Scott walks into the kitchen. His face… holy crap, his face! It was covered in little toilet paper squares that were red with blood. Needless to say I needed to clean up the coffee I _had_ been drinking, because it was all over the table. Jean flips, "Oh my God, Scott! What happened?" I was laughing so hard I fell out of my chair. Between laughs, I managed to say, "You…look like…a…freakin'…dartboard!" Jean asked him again, "Scott, what happened?" I managed to stand up, eventually. Scott pointed at me, "_He_ happened." Jean looked at me, "Logan, what did you do?"

"What I did," I said matter-of-factly—once I calmed down, "was get back at Scott for saying something about me and Marissa to Professor Xavier. I replaced his new razor blade with an old, rusty one. Now…we're even."

***Back to Present***

After the Danger Room exercise, the professor called us—Jean, Scott, Storm, Hank, and I— all into his office for a briefing. "Do all of you recall the incident that occurred when Marissa first arrived?" We nodded in unison. "Do you recall the attack made on the president recently?" Again, we nodded in unison. "Well," he continued, "there is good reason to believe that the same mutant caused both disturbances. I have been attempting to track him using Cerebro. It took some time, but I finally managed to keep a solid lock on him." Jean spoke up, "Where did you find him, Professor?"

"Boston. Which leads me to this: Storm, Jean, I want you to take the jet and see if you can pick him up. I'll send you the coordinates when you are on the way. Logan," he caught my attention, "If you would be so kind as to watch over the children tonight. Scott and I are going to visit and old friend." Hank said he would love to stay and help, but he's needed in Washington, D.C., but assured me Marissa would help.

Once everybody got on their way, I headed to the Recreation Hall. I found Marissa, Rogue, Bobby, John, Kitty, Pete, and the kids from 9/ll crowded around the TV, playing pool, or playing foosball. I walked over to Marissa, Pete, and Jimmy, who were seated on the floor watching a cartoon movie, not really sure which one. I walked over and sat down beside Marissa. Jimmy immediately jumped up, "Logan!" He wrapped his arms around my neck, hugging me tight. I patted him on the back, "How you doin', kid?" He sat down on my lap, "Good!"

"What have you been up to?"

"Pete put in a movie for me!" I played extreme interest for him. You almost have to do that for little kids. "He did? Well, what is it?" Marissa answered for him, "Little Jimmy Dickens wanted to watch _Hercules_, Disney style," she said with flare. Jimmy suddenly looked down-right sad. When I saw a little tear roll down his cheek, I wiped it away with my thumb—but only more followed. "It was me and Daddy's favorite movie," he managed to choke out between hiccups. I cradled him to my chest and let him cry. I heard Rogue say something from across the room, "He's really connected with him." Bobby asked, "Who's connected with who?" She paused, as if thinking, then finally answered, "Either way. They both really need each other." Bobby replied, "I think Jimmy needs Logan, more than Logan needs Jimmy."

"You have no idea how much Logan really needs Jimmy, Bobby. You haven't seen what I've seen in Logan." I don't think Bobby really knew what to say to that, because he didn't answer her. I tried to ignore the quite that suddenly took over the Rec Hall and tried to focus on the child in my arms. Slowly, everyone began filing out one-by-one. Even Marissa and Pete left. Rogue was the only one that stuck around. After about 30 minutes, Jimmy cried himself to sleep. Rogue bent down to take him from me, and I warned her to be careful not to touch him. "It'll be fine, Logan. I'll put him up with Kitty. If she doesn't want to take him, I'll make her," she grinned. "Besides, it's time for him to turn in. It's nearly 10 o'clock." I looked at the clock on the VCR, not realizing how late it was, and also not realizing how tired I was. I turned out the lights in the Rec Hall as I walked out. I told Rogue good night and gave Jimmy a kiss on the head before heading upstairs to my room. I took a quick shower then channel surfed for about 15 minutes before giving up, thinking to myself, _It's Friday night. I should be out drinking, not babysitting. That's not right at all._ _Oh, well._ I turned off the TV, settled into bed. I laid there for about an hour, my mind running 90-to-nothing, before finally dozing off.

I heard voices—a jumble of voices, almost whispers. I saw things—a mixture of pictures and memories. Some of the voices I recognized… others were totally strange. (**Bold**= Logan, _Italics_= Professor Xavier, Underline= Unknown,) There was the clanking of metal as I saw someone carrying dog tags. My dog tags…

**I need you to read my mind again.**

_I'm afraid the results will be the same as before._

I saw myself in a room full of people. There were x-rays on the wall.

He'll be indestructible.

His entire skeleton—

Adamantium.

_Sometimes the mind needs to discover things for itself._

There was a tank of some kind. There was something in it—something bubbling. It was silver, metallic.

Wolverine…  This one snapped my tags in half. He looks old. Who is he? I hear screaming! Is it me? Who is it?

No memory. He'll have no memory. Someone's touching me! Marking on my body. I'm wearing a mask. I'm in a tank of water. I'm scared. I need to get out! I struggle free. I'm going through a tunnel. It's cold. Wait! I finally see a way out! It's a heavy metal door. Daylight!

I'm wrenched out of my sleep. I sit up, gasping for air. I look around. There's nobody there, but me. I turned sideways, swinging my legs off the bed. I closed my eyes and tried to catch my breath. My stomach churned. I ran to the bathroom and retched. I hovered over the toilet and spit the rest of the bile out of my mouth. I flushed the toilet and stood up slowly. I rinsed out my mouth with water before brushing my teeth. I grabbed a rag, wet it with cool water and held it to my face. The dampness felt good to my skin—it was soothing. There's not a lot that will bring me down, but the nightmares—the night terrors—they get me every time. Once I got control of my nerves, I put on a wife beater, blue jeans, and my boots. I knew that sleep wouldn't come, so I decided to walk around the mansion. I left my bedroom and shortly after heard something. It sounded like people talking. I went into the living room—I guess that's what you'd call it. It's an area kind of between the classrooms and the kitchen with a couch and TV. Anyway… There was a blonde kid in glasses sitting on the couch watching TV and changing the channels… by blinking. "Can't sleep?" I don't know how he knew I was there, but he did. I just answered, "How can you tell?" He turned to look at me, "'Cause you're awake."

"Right. How 'bout you?" He shook his head, turning his focus back to the TV, "I don't sleep." I continued my roaming. I walked past the kitchen, but caught a glimpse of someone sitting by the island and backtracked. It was Bobby. He was eating straight out of a carton of ice cream. I walked into the kitchen, "Doesn't anybody sleep around here?" He looked up from his ice cream, "Apparently not." I opened the fridge, looking for alcohol. "You got any beer?"

"This is a _school_." I turned my face around and looked at him, "So that's a no?"

"Yeah, that's a no." I turned back to the fridge, "You got anything other than chocolate milk?" He pointed to the cabinets near the doorway, "There should be some soda in that small cupboard up there." I walked over and pulled a glass bottle of Dr. Pepper out. I popped the top, brought the bottle to my lips, and then hesitated. I handed the bottle to Bobby and he blew on the top of it, chilling the pop. I took the bottle back from him, "Thanks."

"No problem." We sat in silence for a few minutes. Then I heard something. I became alert and tense. Bobby looked at me odd, but I didn't care. I was listening. It was quiet footsteps. It didn't sound like stomping. It had to be one of the kids. I turned and looked in the doorway. Three footsteps later, Ian appeared. "I thought I was the only one up." I waved him in, "Join the club." He sat down on the stool beside me. He looked awful. Bobby noticed too, I could tell, because he asked, "Rough night?" Ian folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them, "You could say that." Again, there was silence for a few moments. Ian started to talk to Bobby, "Are you an X-Man?" Bobby kind of laughed, "No, no. It's mainly Dr. Grey, Mr. Summers, Professor Xavier, and Logan."

"If you were an X-Man, what would your name be?"

"Iceman." I showed Ian my bottle that still had a layer of frost covering it. Ian looked impressed. Just then, Marissa walked in… _What is this, National Insomnia Day?_ "I've changed my name." I looked at her, "You're real name or your other name?"

"My other name. Metallica sounded lame; at least, that's what Pete suggested. I'm 'Ironhide' from here on out."

"You're not gonna be Ironhide until you start going on missions. There's no telling when that'll be." She shrugged, "I don't know. It may be sooner than you think." Ian broke in to our talk, "I'd be called 'Phaestus'." I furrowed my eyebrows, "What the hell does _that_ mean?"

"I shortened it from 'Hephaestus'." I sent a blank stare his way, "Okay, kid, I need more than that."

"Hephaestus is the Greek god of fire. I shortened my name from here."

"Well, you make fire _and_ ice, right? So why not use the god of ice?"

"Because the Greek god of ice is a god_dess_."

"Right…" _Name sounds like an infection._ Marissa brought up a seemingly random subject, "Hey, Logan. What was your first mission with the X-Men like?"

"It was hell. But some of it was interesting. Scott and I were prepping for the mission and he tells me, 'When we do this, we do it as a team. Now, you're going to have to take orders. Is that going to be a problem?' I said, 'I don't know. Give me one.' He opened a glass door, pointed to a uniform and told me to put it on. I asked him whose it was. He said, 'It's one of mine.'" Ian asked me if I'd put on the uniform. "Yeah, but I didn't like it." Marissa asked me, "Did you have problems taking orders?"

"Some. I was mainly a wise-ass. I told him to keep his eye open; I called him a dick, and almost stabbed him and Jean in the face." I kind of laughed at the memory of calling him a dick. The kids and Marissa laughed too. I went to take a drink of my pop and almost spit it back out. I heard something. More footsteps, but it didn't sound light like Ian's had. These steps were treading heavily. I got up to look out the doorway. Bobby said, "What is it?"

"Shh, shh." I step on out into the hallway and move around the corner. There's men walking around, and they've got guns. _Big_ guns. Nothing I can't take, but the kids are another story. One of them is moving towards the kitchen. I stalk behind him, not making a sound. I'm going on pure instinct now, and my instinct is rarely, if ever, wrong. When the guy steps into the kitchen, he raises his gun, ready to fire. I for his arm down just as he fires a shot, barely missing Bobby who was standing by the window. "You picked the wrong house, bub!" A screech begins wringing in my ears. I scream in pain. My hearing abilities only make the sound louder to me. I want to collapse and curl up in a ball because it's so painful, but I have to hang on to the soldier. Everybody else covers their ears. The soldier begins firing again; not taking aim, but he can still hit someone. Everybody ducks down behind the island as the shots hit everything else in the room. The screeching continues and eventually, the gun fire stops. The soldier wrestles free from my grasp and hits me square in the jaw. I stagger back, but keep my balance. The screeching stops, but the soldier is still fighting me. He pulls out a knife and hits me in the face again, pushing my back to the island. I'm cornered. He's right on top of me, ready to stab. I grab his arm with both hands and hold the knife just inches from my face. I grimace as I use all my strength to hold him back and let out my claws as I wounds heal up. I finally push my claws out. With a growl, I push him off of me and against the refrigerator. Before the bastard even gets a chance to think about what happen, or to even move, I plunge both sets of claws in his chest as I howl out in rage! When I pull out and sheath my claws, he falls limp to the floor. I pant gruffly and turn around, noticing the three pairs of eyes peeking over the countertop. "You all right?" Three nods are the response. I probably scared the shit out of them. I move out of the kitchen to see how many soldiers there are. Bobby follows right behind me with Marissa and Ian trailing close. I grab him by the front of his shirt and stop him, "Stay here." I start off at a fast walk down the hall, unsheathe my claws, and move to a jog. The first soldier in front of me, I grab him by his neck and stab him in the back before throwing him into a wall off to the side. I stab the second in the chest and let him fell where he once stood. I can hear kids running and screaming upstairs. I'm in a full-out run now, killing any enemy that steps in my way! One soldier fires his gun at me, but I ignore it. I raise my arm and howl as I slice one's gun in half before slicing across his chest. I slice the other soldier across his face and hear him groan in pain. I hear helicopters hovering outside the mansion now. _There's more of them coming in!_ I look in my shoulder where I was shot and find three small darts. I pull them out at the same time and shake off the effects of the anesthetic. I look down and the kid that was blinking at the TV is lying there with three darts, exactly like the ones that hit me, in his neck. I pick him up and try to find someone to get this kid out of the mansion. I find Pete and Marissa at one of the hidden passageways not far from where I was. I hand him to Pete, "Take him. He's stunned." I turn to walk away and Pete says, "I can help you." I point at the passageway opening, "Help them." Marissa stops me, "Logan!" She steps up to me and kisses me softly on the lips, "Be careful." I don't know how to respond, so I don't. I just walk away. I move against the wall and hunker down at the corner. I can hear the floor creaking as one moves closer. As soon as his foot appears, I pop out my claws and stab him right in his foot. He groans and I quickly stab him in the abdomen with my other hand. I push him back as he fires off a few rounds. He fights back, but he doesn't fight hard. His flashlight flings behind me. I quickly finish off a few more soldiers before moving to the main entrance of the school. I know that they're going to come in from there. I move up the stairs right next to the doorway, ready to attack the next ones that move through. I keep a constant watch for about 2 minutes, when I see Bobby, John, Rogue, and Marissa. They're right in front of the door when the soldiers come in, shining their lights in all directions. I don't wait a second. I dive off of the railing, screaming furiously. I land right on top of two soldiers, stabbing them before attacking two others standing on each side of me. I stab them again and throw them behind me with my claws still inside them. I lower my arms and pull my claws back in. I look at all 4 of them, "Let's go." I turn towards the main entrance, but there's a chopper hovering not 20 feet away. I turn the opposite direction, "C'mon, this way!" Bobby leads us to another passageway and opens it. "This is it." When the 4 go inside, I shut the door, hearing Rogue say my name. I knew there were soldiers following us the whole time. My first priority was to keep everyone else safe. I turn to face the soldiers who just then appear around the corner. "You wanna shoot me," I show my claws, "shoot me!" Someone calls out, "Don't shoot him!" I stop in my tracks, "Not yet." Another figure appears, "Wolverine? Well, I must admit this is certainly the last place I'd expect to find you. How long has it been? Fifteen years? You haven't changed one bit. Me, on the other hand," his face shows, "nature." He touches his own face. I let my claws slide in slowly. The old man kept talking to me, "I didn't realize Xavier was taking in animals—even animals as unique as you."

"Who are you?" He smiles, "Don't you remember?" I move closer to him. I realize I know his name, Stryker. But I don't _who_ he is. I move closer still, but I hear a crackling. I see ice crystallizing in between us. When hit completes, there's no way for me to see Stryker. I scream, "No! No!" I hear Rogue's soft voice, "Logan, come on, let's go." I see Stryker putting his hand on the ice. I put my own hand where his silhouette is. I hear Marissa say my name. I turn for an instant, "Go! I'll be fine!" Rogue responds, "But we _won't_." I turn away as I hear a beeping. It's an explosive device. I duck into the passageway, "Go. Keep goin'." I close the doorway as the ice wall explodes. I lead the way through the tunnels. "We need the garage. We gotta get out of here," I say. It didn't take long for me to find it. I could smell the oil and fuel. I stopped at a ladder, "This is it! I send Bobby up first, then Rogue, John, and I come up last. I run to a blue Mazda, "All right, get in. Get in!" John says, "I'm drivin'!" as he opens the door. I grab him by his shirt, "Hey, maybe next time." I don't really mean it. I don't exactly trust the kid. I get in the driver's seat and Rogue gets in the passenger side. Marissa squeezes in between Bobby and John in the backseat. Bobby tells me that this is Cyclops's car. I pop out the middle claw on my right hand, "Oh, yeah?" I use my claw to start up the car. I tear out of the garage, down the driveway, and out the gate. I turned en route toward Boston. John starts talking, "What the hell was that back there?" I push down harder on the accelerator. I'm pissed… "Stryker. His name is Stryker."

"Who is he?" Rogue's voice is genuinely concerned. "I can't remember," I answer through my clenched jaw. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rogue pull the dog tags off of her wrist that I gave her just before I took off last winter. She hands them to me, "Here, this is yours." John leans up between the front seats, no doubt putting his ass right in Marissa's face. "I don't like uncomfortable silences." Rogue says, "What are you doing?" He presses a button on the console and music blares—crappy music. Everybody groans and John presses another button. Something opens up and a device appears. John says, "I don't think that's the CD player." _Really? I had no clue!_ I experiment with the device. It opens up like a phone and beeps. "Woah." I look at it, trying to figure out what the hell it is. I tell John to sit back. When I do, Marissa says, "Yeah, get your butt outta my face!" I have to stifle a laugh. Marissa says to me, "Where are we going?"

"Storm and Jean are in Boston. We'll head that way." Bobby says, almost sadly, "My parents live in Boston."

"Good." I shift into a higher gear and prepare for a 200-mile, 4-hour drive…


End file.
